


In Dreamings and in Nightmares

by SwordsAndSongs



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga), Yu-Gi-Oh! GX, Yu-Gi-Oh! Sevens
Genre: Alchemy, Clerihew, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magic AU, Magician AU, One-Shots, Poetry, Vampire AU, magician, vampire, yugioh vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2020-11-09 03:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20846546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordsAndSongs/pseuds/SwordsAndSongs
Summary: A collection of Yu-Gi-Oh! one-shots, drabbles, fluff, and headcanons. Topics include what Yami Bakura does in the rain, a hymn to Yusei Fudo, Yami getting turned into a vampire, and the origin stories for several Duel Monsters. (Updates are slow while school is in.)





	1. Follower

_WARNING - Implied child sexual abuse mention._

“Never have I ever…. spent more than 1 billion yen at one time.” Yami grinned, quirking an eyebrow at Kaiba.

Ruefully, Kaiba took a drink from the shot glass, tasting the bitter liquor swirl across his tongue and down his throat like fire. “Guilty.” He said, his tone dry. “Never have I ever _not_ had a younger sibling.”

Yami contemplated the sentence for a moment, then nodded, allowing it. “That sounds a little like cheating, but I’ll let it go this time.”

Kaiba crossed his arms, his keen gaze already wavering from the effects of alcohol. They had been playing this game for almost an hour. “What’s there to let go? A double negative is valid.”

Yami merely gave him a mischievous eye, cocking the glass back. He exhaled sharply as it slipped down his throat, slamming the glass on the table. “Alright, sure. Mm, this is the last one, ok? I have school in the morning… ”

Kaiba nodded, rolling his glass between his fingers. “Go ahead.”

Yami smirked. This was a classic question, but one that he wanted to stump his rival on.

“Never have I ever… had sex!” He announced.

He expected a quick laugh, a tease, some kind of response from the half-drunk and unusually talkative CEO. Yami got… nothing. There was a stiff, leaden silence, and then Kaiba grabbed the bottle of spirits angrily. He chugged a hard swallow straight from the bottle, wiping his mouth on his sleeve when he was done. It was as if he were wiping away a memory.

“W-what?” Yami asked, mystified and a little scared.

Kaiba didn’t say anything for a few moments, merely staring at the floor. “I’ve had sex.” He said, his voice a low growl. He almost seemed… angry.

Yami didn’t pressure him, merely taking the bottle off the table and capping it tight. He knew the other had lived a terrible childhood, so he didn’t dare ask what made him so upset about sex.

Finally, Kaiba broke the silence. “You’re 16 years old and you’re a virgin?” His scoff sounded too serious, cutting straight into Yami.

“Yeah!” He replied defensively. “Is there a problem?” He had been willing to laugh about it only a moment before, but Kaiba had ruined the mood.

Kaiba merely flashed him a hollow, drunken smile. “My friend,” Standing up, the businessman lifted his suit jacket from the back of the couch. “I think that we should remedy your… situation. You’re the King of Games, and I’m the man that made your gaming title mean something to the rest of the world. Between the two of us, women will be putty in our hands. We can rid you of your virginity by tomorrow morning.”

Laughing nervously, Yami turned away. “Don’t be stupid… ” He protested. “You’re too drunk, I’m going home.” It wasn’t like he was saving himself for marriage, he was just waiting for the right person. The thought of sex seemed a little… intimidating.

“Come on.” A mischievous smirk was winding it’s way across Kaiba’s face. “Let me do this for you. Helping my rival get laid would be my greatest pleasure.”

“You sound a bit creepy.” Yami shot back. “Do you get off on watching virgins getting fucked? Are you gonna be watching, pervert?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be jerking off in the closet.” Kaiba said, his eyes sparkling with malicious glee. “I’ll stay quiet so I don’t ruin the mood.”

Still a bit reluctant, Yami let his friend lead him out the Kaiba mansion’s back door. “Fine, I guess I’ll just go with you, see if there are any, um, hot girls. This isn’t a promise, we’ll just… see what happens.”

“If you let me take the lead, you know who’s going to get some first.” Kaiba reeled a little as they walked. Or maybe that was just Yami’s vision trembling. Whichever it was, they were both too drunk for this.

“Kaiba, I don’t think you even know the definition of a ‘get some’.” Yami argued back.

Kaiba merely snorted. As skeptical as Yami was, even Kaiba wasn’t exactly certain of what he was doing. It was probably the alchohol that made him like this, but he wanted to see what happened. Would Yami change after he lost his virginity? Would what happened to Kaiba himself… would that seem normal? He shook away his foolish thoughts, trying to focus on who they were and what they were doing right now. In their drunken stupor, something very dangerous or stupid could happen, and he needed to be the level-headed one. Like always.

“I’ve gotten more than you.” He muttered, more to himself than as an actual retort. “Get in the car.” He gestured at one of his sports cars, parked by the back gate.

“You’re going to drive? Like this?” Yami asked, horrified.

Kaiba shook his head irritably. Damn, that hurt. His head felt so heavy! “The car drives itself.” He explained. “I even designed it to be self-parking.”

Yami gave a low whistle. “Pretty impressive! Have you started selling these yet?”

Kaiba waved his smart-watch at the car door, and they unlocked for him. A door on each side opened, one for him, one for Yami. “No. There’s no way to mass produce these yet, and the cost for this exact model is over 6 million US dollars. Part of the cost was integrating it with KaibaCorp’s current systems, but still. The market isn’t big enough for this to be a moneymaker, not until it can be produced more easily… ”

Yami waved his hand apologetically. “Forget I asked. At least you have this one for yourself.” There was a steering wheel in front of Kaiba’s driver seat, but it was retractable, sunk deep into the console. Kaiba was more interested in the wide-screen GPS, his shaking fingers punching in coordinates.

“Do you have a preference for a certain type of woman?” Kaiba asked, looking up at Yami suddenly.

Caught off-guard by the surprising keenness in his gaze, Yami could only gape at him for a moment. Those blue, blue eyes seemed to be looking straight at him. He knew them so well, and they knew him, taking in every moment of his slender form, gathering and storing the data they saw there in his motions…

“Yami?” His name, a query, dropped from pale lips that shook and slurred with the taste of spirits. They were both so drunk.

“I, yeah. Women.” He smiled weakly. That gaze was too piercing; it had torn right through him. “Younger ones, I guess… I don’t really know what else to say… ”

Kaiba gave him a concerned look, then went back to the GPS. “In that case, we’ll go to the clubs where the youngest party-goers are out right now. Let’s see if we can find a girl drunk enough to want to lay you… ”

“I told you I would just follow your lead.” Yami exclaimed, clumsily crossing his arms as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I’ll find someone for myself if I want. If you want to get laid, you can do that by yourself!”

Kaiba shook his head, starting the car with a press of a slender finger against a button. “This is about you. It’s time you became a man, and I’m here to help. I know you better than any of your other friends, so who better to help you find the right kind of girl to share your first time with?” It wasn’t like Kaiba was interested in seeing Yami’s expression go from flat to aroused. It wasn’t like he wanted to see those violet irises shrink to a slender ring around blown-out pupils, desire rolling his eyes back as his head tipped towards the ceiling. Yami’s slender body being held wasn’t really a thing of beauty. He wasn’t worth Kaiba’s time.

Yami was speechless for a moment, trying to process everything the other was saying. “I am a man.” He managed.

Kaiba gave him a look, and Yami felt himself flush and squirm in the seat. “I am.” He insisted. “Being a virgin doesn’t make me not a man!”

Kaiba only rolled his eyes. “Sex changes you in many ways. One of them is turning you from a snot-nosed member of the human species to a responsible, hard-working man.”

“I am responsible! And hard-working!” Yami spluttered, annoyed. “And what do you mean, you know me better than all my friends? Kaiba, I see you the least out of everyone I know.”

“Who did you go drinking with?” He asked in a low voice. “Not Jounouchi. Not Honda. Not even Yugi. Every one of them would have done this with you, but you called me instead. Why?”

Yami grit his teeth, falling back in his seat. He didn’t want to think about those difficult questions. Honestly, he wanted to sleep. “I don’t know! I figured you would have the best alchohol… ”

Kaiba shook his head, muttering. “I don’t believe you… ” But Yami couldn’t hear him, he knew he had said it too quietly. Their ride stretched into awkward silence, punctuated by the noise of the car motor and the almost-silent hum of Kaiba’s orchestral music playing on the radio. “Is this Vivaldi?” Yami asked, feigning interest.

“No, Beethoven.” Kaiba retorted, looking over to catch Yami smirking at him.

“Nerd.” He mouthed. Kaiba crossed his arms sullenly, looking away with a growl. “Idiot.”

Yami giggled, reaching out to fiddle with the radio buttons. “No need.” Kaiba interrupted. The car pulled to a stop in a quiet parking lot. “We’re here.”

“And where is here?” Yami asked, stretching out in his seat.

“This is the bar with the current youngest median age of all the nightclubs in Domino City.” Kaiba related mechanically, climbing out of his seat. With a wave of his wrist, the doors were locked, and he took a moment to straighten out his suit in the window’s reflection.

“I love it when you say median like that. Do it again for me, darling.” Yami fluttered his eyelashes, looking up at Kaiba endearingly from the other side of the car.

Kaiba sneered, giving him a disdainful wave as he walked towards the bar. “Don’t look at me like that, or I’ll take your virginity myself in the backseat… ”

Yami gave an amused chortle. “That’ll be the day.”

Kaiba glanced back at him sharply, trying to observe any effect his half-serious words had caused. Yami seemed to have taken it completely as a joke, as his manner seemed as cautiously curious as before. He gave a puff of breath, trying to push his brown bangs out of his eyes as disappointment settled in the bottom of his stomach. It wasn’t like he had expected the other to flare up at him with daring eyes, defying him to “Do it!” He hadn’t spared a moment’s thought to how he would wreck his rival in the car’s spacious backseat. And he certainly didn’t expect Yami to turn to him and beg. Beg for his body to be torn apart. Beg for Kaiba’s hands running down every slender inch of skin, to warm and touch and taste and take in every part of his being…

Kaiba didn’t want that. He didn’t even think about that.

“I’m not making any promises. If there are cute girls here, then I’ll see what happens. If there aren’t, then you can drop me off at my house on your way home.” Yami added, interrupting Kaiba’s thoughts.

Ahh, yes. Two of Domino City’s celebrities were about to walk into a bar full of young people. Yami would be more than surprised at the partygoers’ reactions. The clueless King of Games hadn’t seemed to realize yet that he was a world-famous celebrity.

Every head turned when Kaiba walked in the door. How could they not? Even half-drunk, the man had a sure stride, holding himself up proudly even as his head throbbed in time with the electric music playing on the speakers. His blue eyes were cold, flicking idly over the entire establishment. Whoever was caught in the searching beam of his gaze ducked away from it, unable to meet his eye somehow; those who escaped his notice longed for the glare to test them. Kaiba’s usually neat hair was slightly ruffled, waving around his face and even poking up in a few places. He hadn’t prepared to go out at all, but that made him look far better than if he had tried.

A hush fell over the room when he came in, but it soon resumed, whispers and gossip flying. Almost apologetically, Yami came into the room after him, both excited and unsure of himself. The crowd’s reaction was far noisier when the King of Games himself walked into the room.

His violet eyes sparkled with each twist and turn of the disco ball, his slender body hugged tight by his dark, leather belts. Unlike Yugi, Yami preferred gold decorations to silver ones, and he wore a gold choker around his neck. His buckles were gold too, his undershirt white with his school jacket framing it by hanging off his shoulders in his charismatic style. Every glint of the light caught his decorations, his wide eyes betraying his interest and innocence. He was met with a loud cheer, with applause and fist-waving. They had been scared to approach Kaiba, but Yami was different prey.

“Stay with me, or you’ll get swarmed.” Kaiba waited for Yami to catch up to him, subtly placing a hand in his close shoulder. They were a strange pair, with Kaiba’s icy attitude and repelling force contrasting Yami’s innocence and slender attractiveness. But they _worked, _and people hesitated, unsure whether to stay back or come close.

There were already two women seated at the bar, whixh Kaiba was steering them towards. The first seemed younger, maybe 19 or so. She was wearing tight leggings and a white crop top, and was sipping on a fruity, icy concoction. Her hair was light brown, falling to her shoulders; as the two approached, she quickly hid her gaze in her hair, subtly staring at them.

The second woman looked about 25, with overdone hair and layers of makeup. It complimented her, however, especially with the little black dress she wore with it. She had on high heels, and looked like she knew far more than she would let on. Her eyes widened slightly as she eyed Kaiba coming closer.

Taking Yami to the end of the bar, a few seats away from the two women, Kaiba nodded subtly towards them. “Take your pick.” He said, crossing his arms and leaning on the counter. “What do you think of them?”

Yami flushed a little, feeling strangely sinful qt the thought of sizing up strangers just for their sexual ability. “I-I don’t know… ” He muttered, focusing his attention on Kaiba’s neatly manicured nails, just poking out from his crossed arms. “I mean… I don’t really want to do this, Kaiba.”

The other merely stared down at him, his face unreadable. Good gods, couldn’t Kaiba show emotion for once? Yami could never tell what he was thinking behind those glacier-sky eyes.

Kaiba gave a low sigh, his tired eyes boring straight into the other. Yami squirmed, unsure of what Kaiba was expecting. He felt awkwardly trapped in that gaze, the silence soaring around them. “W-what?” He managed.

Kaiba finally looked away, hesitating to speak. He finally went to open his mouth, but he was suddenly cut off by the excited squeals of a group of girls. Yami looked up, noticing the rest of the world at last. There were three young, slender girls approaching, dressed in sparkling, revealing clothes that accented their size-0 frames perfectly.

“Are you Yami Muto?” One of the girls came up to him boldly, giving a little bob and giggle.

The awkward moment with Kaiba was more than shattered, and Yami’s amethyst eyes sparkled with curiosity. His dueling persona finally showed itself, reaching out of his drunken stupor. “Why yes, I am. The King of Games, in case you didn’t know… ” He smirked,

Kaiba watched him, his stomach curling on itself a little. He both hated and loved this side of Yami, preferring it when it was directed at him, from across the battlefield, not wasted on fangirls. But he knew this was how his normally shy friend dealt with all the adoration and attention. Intrigued, he watched how he would handle this situation.

The girls gave excited giggles, a second one drawing closer now. “It’s like, so nice to meet you!” She gave a bow, showing off her small, round breasts under her strappy dress. Yami kept his composure, seeming to neither notice or be intrigued. He leaned back against the bar, his elbows resting squarely on its surface.

“The pleasure’s all mine, ladies.” He replied smoothly. “Is there anything I can do for you lovely girls tonight?”

The leader piped up again. “Well, umm, I don’t know if you guys can, but like, can you duel each other? Like, I don’t know, you might need to be at a tournament or something… ” Another giggle ran through the group, and the girls jostled against each other, whispering excitedly.

Yami remained calm, passing a subtle hand across Kaiba’s arm. “It’s unfortunate, but I don’t have a Duel Disc on me right now. If Kaiba has one, I’ll be happy to put on a show for you.”

Good gods. Yami knew how to charm a fangirl. The third looked like she was close to fainting. But for once, Kaiba didn’t have a Duel Disc on him. Blame it on his drunken unpreparedness. “No, I don’t.” He replied tartly. His head hurt now, and he wanted to leave. What did he hope to accomplish, anyway? Did he think that after Yami had his first cherry popped, it would be easier to take him later… not that Kaiba was going to.

The girls gave a chorus of disappointed noises, and Kaiba clutched his head. The migraine was only getting worse. Was he dehydrated? Or were those three just ridiculously annoying?

“I’m sorry. Not this time.” Yami said with a soft frown. He shook his head, withdrawing his hand from Kaiba’s arm.

The leader clasped her hands together, looking at Yami with barely innocent eyes. “Wait! I think there’s another way that you can put on a show for us.” She said, her voice full of faked emoticon. It had to be fake, right? No one ever said those words in such an over-affected way.

A twitch broke the corner of Yami’s mouth, and he smiled, his wide eyes seemingly naive even as his half-smirk gave away his thoughts. “Oh? And what way could that be?”

Kaiba half-wondered which Yami was the real one: his shy kindness or his brash, calculating duelist self. Suddenly annoyed, both with the girls and his rival, he signaled the bartender, ordering a scotch on the rocks. At least the sounds of the ice cubes clinking as he drank helped to drown out all those titters coming from the gaggle of females.

The third, who seemed to be the youngest, finally said something, her soft voice almost lost among the throbbing of electric music. “Well, you could, umm, make out with Kaiba right now.”

Kaiba nearly choked on the burn of his alcohol. Yami went quite stiff, his face flushing with sudden heat. The seat felt too small, and the world seemed to spin slightly. He had never even thought of Kaiba as someone to… to kiss! To make out with on the bar stool!

“I… what?” He squeaked, his voice rising an embarrassing octave as he gazed over at Kaiba. Beside him, the other was trying to breathe past the choke of liquid, shooting furtive glances over at Yami, trying to gauge his reaction. In an odd way, he hoped the other would submit, just to satisfy his devilish curiosity that always seemed to break out when they went drinking together. At the same time, he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be kissing his companion in front of those perverted girls.

“That’s enough.” Kaiba growled, finally speaking. “We’re leaving. Keep you slutty fangirl shit to yourselves.” Yami gaped, not sure what to say, but Kaiba silenced him with another cold look. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a wad of cash, going to throw it down for the bartender. One of the girls clutched his arm, her nails digging in through the fabric of his dress shirt.

“Come on… ” She whined. “Just a little kiss… it doesn’t have to be weird or anything… And when you’re done, all of us would do _everything_ you wanted!” She looked to the other girls in support, who nodded, and turned pleading eyes on Yami. Their meaning was quite clear. Yami’s throat suddenly went dry, realizing that his virginity would happily be taken by any of these girls.

Kaiba growled, pulling away from the tug. He meant to make a smooth motion, but his drunken body conspired against him, making him reel heavily against Yami beside him. Both flinched away from the touch, refusing to look at each other as heat ran through their faces. Why did those girls have to make things like this?

Before he could toss his money and collect the other boy, the woman in the black dress spoke up from a few seats away. “Wait.” She said, money already in her hands. “I’ll pay for that drink – and every drink you want to try. Just give your cute little card-game rival a kiss, and I’ll be happy to do you a few favors.”

Kaiba hesitated now, his mind quickly running through possibilities. He had enough money to buy the entire building, let alone a drink, but technically, wouldn’t this accomplish all of his goals? He could tongue-fuck Yami’s mouth a little bit, send him off with the three fangirls to lose his virginity, then get a little pussy himself before he went home for the night. Wasn’t that what it meant to be rich and famous?

For a long, long moment, Kaiba could say nothing. Wasn’t he just a being made of desires that needed to be fulfilled, like his ‘father’, Gozaburo? Just like these women, and even like Yami himself? He could just accept the offer, and be done with this uncomfortable, intrusive indecision. He could even satisfy his curiosity about Yami’s taste at the same time.

But he wasn’t going to let that happen at the expense of Yami’s own comfort. He couldn’t. He needed to make the other love him, in the same way he needed to press his slender body into a hot, close embrace. He was too strong and scarred to let it happen like this.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Everyone standing there had to have seen the brief struggle clouding his usually clear features, and Kaiba cursed the fact that these foolish women had been witness to the indecision their offers brought him. “We’re leaving.”

Yami only gave a quick nod, following after Kaiba with light footsteps. He dared not look back, and refused to hear the girls’ cries of “It was just a joke! Come _baaaaack_… ”

“Thanks, Kaiba.” He muttered, letting the other lead the way. It wasn’t the first time that his fans had asked him to do lewd things, but no one had ever asked him to make out with Kaiba, or offered to fuck him with their friends. “I… do you want to go somewhere else? You know, try again.” He glanced up at the other with curious eyes, unsure of what he wanted from the rest of their night.

Kaiba shook his head, feeling the weight of the migraine pressing behind his eyes. “No, let’s get home. We both have responsibilities tomorrow morning. Honestly, we shouldn’t have left the manor like this… ” He clutched his forehead, scrunching his eyes shut. He was going to have a major hangover the next day, if the current situation was any indication.

“Don’t make decisions while drunk.” Yami smirked, nudging his arm with his elbow. Both staggering a little, the blow only just scraped against Kaiba’s skin. It was more by accident than design that Yami had really hit his mark. “Don’t do anything while drunk.” He added, striding quickly to keep up with each of Kaiba’s longer steps.

“That’s a little harsh. Can I breathe while I’m drunk?” Kaiba asked, his tone dry as he led them both out the door. The cool night air passed across his face like a welcome distraction, easing his suffering somewhat. Taking a deep breath in, the scent of the city filled his senses, and Kaiba felt his nerves settle. This city was his home.

“No.” Yami replied, skipping ahead to stand next to the car door. It opened as he touched the handle, and he yelped in surprise. Kaiba gave a dry bark of laughter, watching Yami startle. “Relax. It doesn’t bite.” He smirked, his own door opening at a wave from his hand. He sat down heavily in the front seat, making the car take them to the Kame Game Shop by just pressing a button. Yami glanced at him with drunk, violet eyes.

“You have my house pre-programmed in.” He said, more of a question than a statement.

Kaiba just shrugged. “Do you have a problem with that?” He crossed his arms, not directly answering the half-asked question: _why?_

His slender rival had nothing to add, and looked away. “I’m going to be so hungover…” He muttered, shutting his pretty eyes as he leaned his head against the window.

“Drink plenty of water, and sleep as much as you can.” Kaiba advised, leaning back in the seat, watching Yami as he rested. The street-lights outside passed lights across his face, illuminating the cut of his cheekbones, showed the softness of his eyelashes, sent shadows skittering across his arms. His body was small and thin, easy to hold, reeking of innocence and the trust he had in Kaiba. It would be so easy to steal a kiss from those thin lips, half-open as Yami began to breathe through his mouth.

But Kaiba could not give in, yet again. Once you had something precious stolen from you, it was so hard to do it someone else – but also, so easy. Every fiber of his being seemed to want, and told him there was only one way to have, but the tall youth resisted. Yami was not his, and the other’s precious heart was a gift to be given, and not a jewel to steal.

The car came to a graceful stop outside of Yami’s house, and those fiery eyes blinked open at the little jolt. Thankfully, he didn’t notice Kaiba’s steely gaze, nor the way the other’s eyes quickly flicked the other way. There were too many words, it was too hard to admit what was happening. Kaiba would have to wait for the right time to make his move.

“We’re here.” That was all he said, struggling to hold back the tide of emotion that threatened to drip from his tongue. Yami nodded, stretching out sleepily. “Thanks… ” He mumbled, his form tensing as different muscles clenched and loosened.

“You know… we should try going out more often, or something.” He added softly, keeping his eyes fixed away. “I mean, hopefully – _that_ – won’t happen again, but maybe we’ll find some fans that are actually nice, right?” He shuddered as he remembered their earlier encounter, but offered a hopeful smile.

Kaiba didn’t share his enthusiasm, but he did offer a look of consideration. “If that’s what you want.” He offered. “I was sure our little encounter would make you want to never go back. Those women were-”

“Not the kind of fans we usually have.” Yami interrupted. “There are plenty of people who see us as the top players of their favorite game. Those are the people I want to meet and get to know. I’m not going to barter my virginity for their fantasies.”

An admirable wish. Kaiba merely bobbed his head in submission. Anything his rival wanted, he would provide. “For next time, then.” He said, knowing that their presence at the bar would probably be splashed across the tabloid headlines by the next day. “Night, Yami.”

His rival offered a smile. “Night. I’ll call or text you when I want to hang out again.”

Kaiba waved his hand, and the door opened for Yami. “Of course.” That was all the warmth the other would get from him.

Yami climbed out slowly, keeping his balance by grabbing onto the door. Once he slid onto his feet, he paused, looking off into the night.

“What?” Kaiba asked, unsure of what Yami was seeing.

“I was just… thinking.” He replied evasively. “What I said earlier, about, umm, following your lead… I meant that. I’ll follow you to a lot of places.” He dared not look into Kaiba’s eyes. “Just tell me where we’re going - or even don’t tell me. Just say I’ll be safe, and that’s enough. I trust you, Kaiba.” He offered a quick wave, and then the door was slamming shut behind him. Practically running, he offered his back to Kaiba as he fled to his front door.

He would follow Kaiba anywhere, huh? And what did he mean by that? Shaking his head, Kaiba felt a smirk twitch at his lips as he directed the car back to his own house. “What new kind of game are we playing… ?”

>///< This work has been troubling me for some time! I started writing it weeks ago, but could never sit down and finish it... it was supposed to be a stand-alone PWP, but instead of laying Yami on the couch, Kaiba suddenly dragged him off on an adventure... after that, I didn't have an ending in mind, and had to work to wrap up all the threads and try to emphasize the 'moral' I eventually settled on. I tried to keep it subtle, but the story implies that to give into his desires, against Yami's will, was weakness on Kaiba's part - the weakness his own stepfather had shown. And Kaiba hates being weak! I'm not really sure if I succeeded in making that point, though... I was also really conflicted about posting this here or posting it on its own, since this is much longer than most of the one-shots in this collection. This one story almost doubles the word count! But it was loads of fun to write. Prideshipping is a super indulgent ship for me, like eating dark chocolate ice cream.

As always, good luck, and happy dueling!


	2. Settle

One could hardly say they were 'settling for' Mana, the priestess of the Millennium Ring. Tonight, in an almost–transparent gown of the finest linen, her deeply tanned skin was the color of a ghost's shadow – and just as haunting. Gold bracelets and earrings rattled silently with her every move, gems glittering on her figure where they caught the light.

  
She was radiant, and soon she would belong to the new Pharaoh. No one could see her as belonging anywhere else.

Only she and the Pharaoh doubted those words.

  
She made a show of walking up to Seto, even though he was in the midst of a flattery contest between his admirers ... or rather, a conversation. She placed a delicate, sensuous hand across his chest, slipping it to his shoulder as her wild perfume spiced the air. The flatterers stopped their sycophantic rant for a moment, their dull eyes going wide with admiration. The priestess smiled politely, batting her eyelashes childishly at them. She knew how to use her charms. Having earned their silence, she turned her attention back to Seto.

  
"My Pharaoh, when you have the time ... " she let the sentence rest in the air, a scarlet flag for everyone else to see.

  
"Yes, priestess." Seto said quietly, his voice monotonous.

  
Mana left him now to disentangle from his nobles, going to the dark corner of a balcony. The fresh desert air chilled her, but it was refreshing. Stars silvered quietly in the night above, the only other light the warm glow of the guards' fires.The day–sky was blue like Seto's unusual eyes. Mana preferred the deep, comforting violet of the night, the shadows enveloping her and saving her from eyes that were always prying, always looking for more.

  
Seto came to her now, his face drawn slightly. "What is it?" he asked, with rare kindness.

  
She hesitated, clutching the wooden balcony rail in her hands. He wouldn't like what she had to say. "I know we've talked about this before, but it's important." She said, starting with words that were easy. "You must take a wife, Pharaoh. Everyone knows Atem was... _fond_ of me. There are those who doubt your legitimate claim to the throne, and it would do the regime good to tie your reign as much s possible to the former Pharaoh."

  
His body stiffened, and he turned away from her, but he didn't leave. "Our loves lie in the grave, only two months cold. The corruption of a vast and powerful government led to their deaths. Cleaning up any remains of that corruption seems to be the best way to honor their memory, rather than being married the eve after their funeral. Taking a wife and fathering heirs is time spent that I don't have at the moment."

  
She hated his emotionless words. "Don't talk to me like I'm everyone else." She snapped. "I know you loved her. I loved Atem too, you know! I'm not saying these things just because I'm desperate or lonely!"

  
Seto glanced back at her, a touch of surprise and pain flicking through his irises. "Then why do you bring them up?" He asked, cautiously. His voice still didn't waver.

  
She faltered now. This was more difficult to explain. "People ... are talking."

  
"They always do." Her partner replied, crossing his arms impatiently. The flicker of torchlights played against his skin, showing the gauntness of his cheeks and hiding his keen eyes.

  
"Important people. High priests. Business owners. Nobles of significant nomes. They say the reason you haven't started searching for a wife is because you're infertile, or ... not interested in women." Mana blushed, refusing to look at him. Seto smiled, a little bit sadly. Grief had aged Mana, but she had not changed.

  
Quirking an eyebrow at her claims, he moved closer to her. He turned his back to the night outside, leaning against the balcony rail. "Their fears are ill–founded." He said softly. "Only grief still ails me." His voice finally buckled under the weight of his emotion. Seto's sharp, midday eyes wavered with sorrow.

  
Mana preferred midnight. But the day's brightness didn't scare her.  
  
She reached out her hand, quietly squeezing his slender fingers. Seto was surprised by the touch, far too informal for their stations. No priestess could touch a king. But he held on, and didn't turn away. He had learned there wasn't time for that in this world.

  
"You think we should get married." His bare words weren't a question.

  
Mana nodded. "Put such vile rumours to rest. Show them your strength. Atem and I grew up together, so my affirmation of your reign is important. Many around the palace assumed I would be his first wife; this way, I will be your first, giving you his political power. And, of course, your h–heirs." She was an adult, and knew what having children entailed. However, her breath still caught on the word 'heirs'. She blushed, studying her sandals intently. When she looked up, Seto was watching her with a bemused air.

  
Something in their eyes caught onto each other's. Mana stopped, frozen in place by his look. He reached out, and cupped her cheek in his hand. "I miss Kisara..." he whispered, closing his eyes, his mouth trembling with finally unfettered emotions. "I miss the Pharaoh."

  
Awkwardly, Mana pulled him into a hug, letting his chin rest on her head. It was cold around them, and their shared warmth pushed back the white stars' breath."You are the Pharaoh now." she whispered to him, trying to ignore the ache in her own heart. Seto needed her to be whole. "_You_ are Pharaoh. Let no one doubt you."


	3. Priestess, Your Eyes are Blue

(Part 1)

There were many girls in the Japanese village, their hair dark and eyes flashing. In fact, the health and energy of the children in this village was something that its neighbors marveled at - at least, they once had. Now there was one who was not like other girls, a white swan to their raven locks. Sakura didn't understand why she was different. She hated it. The other girls in her tiny Japanese village didn't have hair the color of starlight on snow. They didn't have eyes that matched the midday skies above. They also didn't wake up screaming every night from dreams about monstrous white dragons with wide, devouring mouths.

Sakura shivered, drawing her shawl tight. Even during the middle of the day, with the musky scents and sounds of the villagers around her, the dragon in her dreams seemed to be standing in front of her. Its eyes were as icy as her own, glaring into hers. With a snort of contempt for the small village below it, it swept out its devastating wings and -

"Sakura!" Her mother's sharp call sent a shiver down her spine. "Come along."

"Sorry Mother." Sakura tightened her grip on her basket of laundry, following behind her mother to the river. Something was wrong with her. Other girls talked and laughed about men, getting married, and had fun together. Sakura was always staring into space, silent and lost in the white monster's eyes. It haunted her steps, its bloody claws always stalking right behind her. Thankfully, her mother didn't push her to be like or with the others. She let Sakura be, for the most part, and made sure she always had a sibling or two with her. Sakura sometimes had seizures or panic attacks, and her mother worried about sending her anywhere alone.

Neither of her parents looked out of the ordinary, or her siblings. Every other one had black hair, brown eyes, and slightly tanned skin. Sakura wondered what it was like to fit in to the rest of the world, as they did. No one stared at her sisters like they were freaks of nature - although she had to admit that they definitely got a few stares from the village boys. But they were different, admiration filling their wide eyes. Sakura wondered what it was like to be admired.

"A priest from the mountain shrine is visiting here soon." Her mother said, wringing out a wet shirt with strong, sure hands. "Perhaps you've been chosen to be a priestess or an oracle by a kami. He'll be able to tell us if you have."

"Even if that monster is a kami,I refuse to honor it, whether it chose me or not." Sakura said in a low voice. "I hate it. It scares me."

"Nevertheless, you've been given a gift. Learn how to use it, rather than fear it, and perhaps you'll grow to thank the dragon." Her mother said, ever practical. "Whether it's a kami or a demon, learn to use it for your sake. It obviously has no qualms about using you. You may get something out of it one day."

"I will never want that dragon, regardless of what I may 'get out of it'." The youth shivered, her tired eyes flicking shut briefly. "This is no gift."

The priest of the mountain shrine smelled like horses and mint. A crushed shred of the aromatic herb was caught in his front teeth, and his horse was in one of the village's stables. Sakura stared evenly into his amber eyes, even as he stared back at her. She was trembling like a leaf awaiting execution; he was steady, almost stonelike. The girl half-willed him to pronounce her a witch (as some of the villagers whispered) or possessed, as she herself suspected. Then it would be over. The priest would either exorcise her problems away, or else he would fail, and she would be drowned or burned as a witch. Her cursed, lonely existence accompanied by a demon would be over.

She had told him about her dreams at night and her visions during the day. He had only nodded and listened quietly, asking piercing questions here and there. Now, he gave his thoughts on her. "This white dragon you speak of ... I know of no kami that takes that guise - for a kami it is." He added, noting her shocked expression. "You are the first it has ever chosen as its medium. It is not a demon, nor does it mean you harm, or it would have possessed you or harmed you by now. Given how clearly it's marked you, I'm surprised that you didn't realize this sooner. It wants you to be its priestess."

Sakura shook her head, disgust seeping through her. "No! It's a horrible beast! It holds the entire world's destruction in those gaping jaws. Its claws are as swords, and its teeth daggers. No good can come of worshiping that dragon, kami or not!"

"Do not speak ill of gods, child, especially not when one peers over your shoulder." The priest said intensely, his voice quiet but heated. "You were born to carry this burden."

Sakura floundered, feeling lost in a sea of confused fear. "I can't." She said, tears breaking from her eyes. "Please, anything but that. Make it go away, please."

He reached out a hand, tugging a strand of her dirty, waist-length white hair. "When your hair grows dark as night, instead of moonlight, the kami will leave you." He said, a keen, unhuman brightness in his eyes. "This is a prophecy, a promise from the god I serve. Until that day, you're bound to the white dragon god's service. However, I suspect that by the time it leaves you, you will regret having lost its blessing."

Sakura shook her head. His arcane words didn't help her, even if they were a prophecy. "I can't do this." She insisted. "There's no way I can devote myself to that... thing."

The priest sighed, looking off to the side. He had to deal with this every so often, and he hated it. He knew that these girls were plagued with unspeakable horrors, driven out by society and forced to conceal their true selves in order to fit in with the rest of the world. But no matter what they did, it wasn't enough, and everyone always knew there was something not quite right about the oracles. He had gone through that himself, eschewing the company of everyone he knew in order to listen to the whispers of the kami of prophecy that was always telling him things. He had hated the prophecies, hated knowing when everyone was going to die, and who would survive, with nothing he could do to change things.

"I know. The kami can be rude, unpredictable. They see what they have given us as gifts, but we humans beg to differ. We would rather be nothing than something, especially when being something is just as powerless to change things as being nothing. We just know more of the story." He sighed, swishing the mint around in his teeth. "I know that you want nothing to do with the kami, but if you don't take charge, you're going to live this way your whole life: alone, and feared, and hated. At least as a shrine maiden, you'll have the protection of people's respect. I can teach you things, how to heal others, and understand the kami's messages to you. You can come with me, and be a shrine maiden at my temple."

She considered his words, tipping her head and thinking hard. "I'm not sure." She said quietly. She had never been asked to make a decision like this before. _She_ could become the kind of person that healed and supported the community, rather than skulk around its fringes? She doubted that. And she would have no family with her! Would it just be her and this mint-chewing priest the whole time?

He nodded in answer to her hesitation. "If it makes a difference, there are other girls at the shrine."

Sakura's heart skipped a beat. "There are other girls?"

"They weren't chosen in such a dramatic fashion as you were, but they too have visions and seizures." The priest told her. "Hana and Kaguya are their names. They're both a few years older than you are, and they understand what you've been going through."

The huge, white dragon stirred outside the house, its sharp wings scraping against the ground. Sakura shuddered, feeling its breath as it looked in at her. Its blue, blue eyes matched only her own, and the color of the midday sky. Nothing else in the world existed that could be that heart-rendingly blue.

_"It's a gift." Her mother advised._

_"You've been chosen." The priest sounded so sure._

The dragon's roars echoed through her imagination. It would bring her no peace to live this way, forever alone and suspected. This time, Sakura was going to have a say in her life, whether the dragon liked it or not. "I'll go with you. But I don't just want to be a shrine maiden. One day, I want to be a miko!"


	4. Rain

Dusk descends on a weary soul, sending melancholy and pain rolling through him.

  
No, wait.

  
The early darkness came from thunderclouds above, not the shadows within the boy's spirit.

  
It began to drizzle. Normal people took shelter. Bakura Ryo didn't. He wasn't Ryo now anyway. He was the other.

The other paid rent to live in a soul, a soul that rejected him sometimes, and admired him sometimes. The other ignored the soul.

  
Rain was an unfamiliar taste, washing across his tongue with an ozone burn like alcohol.

Desert sands didn't see rain. Desert sands lived within all the joints and cracks of his soul, leftover from a far-away time.

  
The splashing precipitation soaked into his dark blue jacket that flowed open across his chest. Within minutes, he was dripping wet.

Unbecoming. Unorthodox. No different from usual.

  
It was summer, so there was no chill with the rain. The tenant was free to be wet without being cold. It almost seemed forbidden.

  
Why did he wander rain-scrubbed backstreets and unaccepting alleys? Why does rain slip from a lightning-strewn sky? Why does sunlight return after the clouds? Why can't a heart ever stop grieving?

  
Grief became anger, and rain became life. An eternal cycle, its effects seeping into Hell and rising to Heaven. Let every god and demon tremble at the vengeance of a grieving heart.

  
Let every god-king despair, as blood returns to pay back with blood. No divine, no deity, could stand against such an onslaught.

Only a demon could contain him. Only a demon could rend the blood from the holy flesh he hated.

And only rain could clean a dirty street, clearing the streets of idlers and idolaters alike.

But even idolatry needed shelter. Even the other would go home one day, soaked through with water and memories.

  
  
"Ugh, I'm all wet." Ryo sighed, sliding off his shoes at his door. There was nothing he could do about it, and complaining to the spirit only made things worse. Feet aching, his long hair dripping, Ryo retreated to a shower. At least it had stopped raining, and the moon rising over the wet roofs was quite entrancing. It was beautiful outside.

Hello, here's a quick author's note! I hope you're enjoying these stories and such. Please feel free to run over to my tumblr [@brown-eyed-mun](https://brown-eyed-mun.tumblr.com/) to learn more about me, ask questions, or just see what I'm up to! I'll try to keep things up-to-date and post lots of stuff about my writing and such while I'm over there. Feel free to ask me stuff while you're there!


	5. Pride of a Vampire

Yami pressed a small, square hand to the ache at his neck, surprised when his fingers came away wet. "What the hell-? I told you, this isn't my body! You can't leave hickies like that!" He hissed at Kaiba, frantically pressing his hand against the wound to stop the bleeding.  


  
Oddly, the young CEO had a hungry look in his eye, without a single shred of remorse or even pride. Kaiba licked his lips, his strong hand still firmly pressing his rival against the wall. "I've given you a lot more than a hickey." He said, reaching in to lick the wound. Chilled, Yami stiffened, letting him continue more out of shocked anxiety than consent.  


  
"You're a new species now." Kaiba's voice was muffled against the other's skin, but the words distinct. "A vampire, like I am."

  
Stunned, Yami didn't say a word in reply, his mouth gaping for some kind of sound. He only managed a confused choke.  


  
Gliding a hand down his feast's slender torso, Kaiba crooned, "Your body's practically invincible. You're stronger than any man alive. We'll never age, never get old. With the proper magical protection, even the sun isn't a problem. You and I will be able to drink the blood of the living forever... " There was something in his tone that was a lot different from their usual jousting foreplay. This was strong desire, mixed with a hungry bloodlust. His voice husky and dripping with emotion, Kaiba let his fingers drop to the other's belt, fingering the buckle impatiently. "What do you think about that, Yugi?"

  
It took a moment for words to come to Yami's mind again. And when they did, they were loud. "Kaiba, are you serious? Aibou's going to murder me!" Yami raged, shaking free of Kaiba's grasp. "I said you could kiss me, once, not turn me into an undead!"

  
Kaiba looked down at him now, the lust in his eyes stymied. His voice now held considerable less emotion as his expression returned to one of petulance. "It doesn't excite you? Not even a little?"

  
"No!" Yami wiped his bloody hands on Kaiba's black shirt. "Ick. This is horrible." He looked up at the other with a mixture of pity and contempt in his eyes. It made sense now that Kaiba had sought him out for company, rather than Yugi or anyone else his own age. While everyone was changing and growing older, Kaiba was trapped inside the same superhuman body, watching the flow of time pass him by. He was a lonely predator, forced to watch his happy prey as his morals kept him from slaughtering them all like sheep. The 3,000 year old Pharaoh could sympathize. Still, it was no excuse for Kaiba to turn his innocent Aibou into a vampire too!  


Sighing, he tilted his head straight back, feeling his bangs brush back from his face. "Kaiba." He said softly. "How do we have to live as a vampire so Aibou's life is as normal as possible?"

  
Kaiba finally released him from his tight hold against the wall, rubbing a hand from his forehead to chin. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. "If you drink the blood of a vampire, you're unaffected by the sun for a few days." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "And if you're touched by sunlight, you'll die."  


  
Yami twitched, staring up at Kaiba in disbelief. "What?" He tore away from the other, his eyes narrowing with anger. "Kaiba, you're insane! Why did you do something that could kill me and Aibou?"  


  
Kaiba couldn't meet his glare, glancing away with a heavy expression. "I thought that... we... were what you wanted. That what we could be together would last for as long as we both live."

  
Yami hesitated, flushing as realization crashed through him. His mouth formed a silent _Oh_, and his hands dropped loosely by his side. "You should have asked." He said, a bit flatly. His voice trembled a little as he continued. "I mean, it's a big deal."

  
Kaiba continued to stubbornly stare at the wall. "I'm not good at asking." The words sounded dangerous, especially with the growl his voice curved into at the end.

  
Yami's went to reply, but his mouth suddenly exploded in pain. He cried out, feeling his gums stretch and bleed. "What the - ouch!"

  
"It's your fangs coming in." Kaiba reassured him, a knowing smirk crossing his face. "It won't hurt in a minute."

  
"Damn you, Kaiba." Yami rubbed his mouth, wincing at the feel of new growth. The other merely watched, saying nothing, his mouth set in a tight line. This wasn't his intention. Yugi was supposed to get bitten and go into a blood frenzy. Then Kaiba would have been there. He would have let him feed until he was sated, preserved by his supernatural powers of healing. Yugi was supposed to have an unbreakable bond with him after his first blood frenzy. Even if it never developed any further, Yugi would always come back to him to satisfy his deepest cravings. But of course, Yugi was one of the few that didn't go into a blood frenzy when bitten. What a shame.  


  
"Whenever you get your first cravings, call me. It should happen tonight or tomorrow night." Kaiba fished a business card out of his coat, holding it out with an air of disappointment. "I'll be there when you need blood - always."

  
"I'm not going to suck your blood." Yami looked at him, startled. "I'm not ... I mean, I'm not going to be like that."

  
Kaiba shrugged, offering him the card in two slender, held-out fingers. Yami took it uneasily. "Then you'll starve." Kaiba said, nonchalant as he turned to leave. "Oh, wait." He went back to Yami, and knelt in front of him.

  
"W-what is it?" Yami had never expected to see Kaiba kneeling. He didn't think his pride would let him. Something about the sight made his heart surge into his throat, and the Pharaoh took a deep breath, trying to clear his head.  


  
Kaiba tugged down the neck of his shirt, exposing his pale throat. "Drink. Or you'll die as soon as you step outside."

  
Yami blushed, taking a step closer. Hesitant, not ready for what he had to do, he grabbed Kaiba's arm. "Does it have to be the neck?"

  
Sighing with annoyance, Kaiba unlocked his gauntlet and rolled up his sleeve, presenting his forearm. "It's going to take longer." He warned. Kaiba wanted Yami bending over him again, his face flushed as he leaned towards Kaiba without breaking eye contact. His eyes were so beautiful.  


  
"How much do I need?" Yami couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from a vein standing up from Kaiba's pale, strong arm. He decided that was where he would go.

  
"A mouthful." Kaiba's words were extremely tight and controlled. He couldn't look directly at Yami again. Every temptation in him told him to hold him down, force him into a blood frenzy... the vampire had many years of experience in resisting temptations, but this one was much too real.  


  
Yami reached down, hesitantly touching his tongue to Kaiba's skin. The other shivered, letting out a barely audible sigh. Flushing, Yami leaned into the salty taste, gently sinking in newly-grown fangs. They both let out a groan as his teeth broke flesh, blood pouring across his tongue for the first time. Falling to his knees beside Kaiba, Yami leaned his whole weight on the arm, cupping it close and drinking greedily. Enchanted by the desire trembling through every inch of his rival's body, Kaiba reached out with his other arm, pulling Yami into his chest and holding on to him tightly. He couldn't explain it, but there was a strange euphoria in letting Yami drink his blood. Kaiba never wanted to stop giving.  


  
Finally, with a satisfied gasp, Yami flung his head back, suddenly realizing how close they were. Blood trailing from his lips, he hesitated, then pressed his head briefly against Kaiba's chest. A long, short moment later, he stood up, shaking free of the other's weakened grasp. "Thank you." He murmured.  


Kaiba didn't know what had just happened. It wasn't a blood frenzy, but Yami's first feed had not been normal. Shaking off a wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him, he climbed shakily to his feet, muttering, "Yeah, sure." He quickly added more, hoping Yami didn't mistake it for disinterest. "I'll do that any time, for you."  


  
"Hey, Mou Hitori no Boku!" A cheerful, definitely not welcome voice greeted Yami's ears as he walked into the game shop's side entrance. "How'd it go tonight?"  
Yami merely smiled at his partner, tugging his collar up to hide the wound. "Uh, it was fine, I guess." He would have a lot to explain, later.


	6. Hymn to the Gods' King

O sweet lord of majesty, my Pharaoh!

Violet the eyes of Horus that peer from beneath the golden eye of Horus, the crown marking the crowned. Royal and regal, violet and darkness shrouding your head in a mane of dignity. Bowed to by both light and darkness, keeping the sky balanced, the heavens open. Night and day are your subjects, prince of silver stars! May the sun look upon you and rejoice.

That we may look upon you and see your smile reign over us, o blessed privilege! Like the untouched waters of the Duat, a mere ripple passing over its surface as the just ride its waves to the land of the blessed. Go westward into the evening, Osiris and lord pharaoh, and return with the dawn. Let the east be your refuge, king. 

Like two towers of strength, your thighs; your body a pillar of the earth, bearing the weight of the sky. Hold up the brilliant stars of the lord king's eyes, gleaming out from the night of his skin. Stone obelisk, bearing your body upright as a young tree, pay tribute to the gods, oh godly one!


	7. Priestess, Your Eyes are Blue

(Part 2)

The mountain shrine of the mint-chewing priest was small, but cozy. The most distinguishing feature of the squat building was the clusters of mint bushes planted all around it - an everlasting supply for the priest's mint addiction. There were only the 2 shrine maidens, Sakura, and the priest, but they made a happy family. They lived for 5 years that way, with Sakura learning the arts of healing, reading, writing and how to be a priestess.

It took some time, but she eventually accepted the moving of the white dragon in her life. It showed her more visions at her insistence, telling of a white future and showing a murky past. From what she could tell, it seemed that there had once been three other people chosen by the dragon, marked like her with white hair and blue eyes. Their stories were all different, but sad, ending in premature tragedy before the dragon could finish the work it wanted to accomplish with them. What it needed, or why it had to use humans, Sakura wasn't sure of. It seemed that even a god had limitations. It's intentions did seem pure.

But time could not stop, and tragedy continued against even the will of the divine. A plague broke out in the village on the other side of the mountain, and the shrine-dwellers went to take care of them. There, all of Sakura's second family died.

  
With the death of the shrine's servants, she was alone. Her family had been kind to her, but their lives were easier with Sakura gone. Her sisters had gotten married without their husbands worrying about a white-haired witch cursing them. Her parents no longer had to deflect dark rumors.

  
"No." Sakura said to the mountain winds, mourning but strong. "I cannot go home."

  
The white dragon twisted around the shrine, a low growl murmuring from its throat as it watched the young priestess. It faced the same direction as Sakura for a moment, then turned its head to the setting sun.

  
"We shall go west, then." Sakura agreed. "I shall see what fate has waiting for me there."

  
With a dragon kami at her side, Sakura had nothing to fear. Night was the same as day. She took the time to pack food, water, and a change of clothes, and was on her way. She only stopped for a moment at the three graves beside the small stable, her chin dropping on her chest. But this was the time to live. The dead would be mourned another day.

  
The mountain shrine had been the only place in the area where any priests or miko dwelt. However, the forests and mountainside was littered with tiny chapels and stone memorials erected for the kami. The people here were deeply spiritual, understanding that the kami controlled the fertility of their lands. Sakura saw many of them as she traveled westward across the countryside.

  
Wondering, Sakura tipped her head to the ghostly dragon that prowled behind her. "Could you make the sky rain in a drought, or put out fires, or make the soil produce good harvests?"

  
The dragon merely growled, its great arm reaching to claw deep furrows into the earth ahead of her. Its meaning was clear; it was a destructive kami, not a kind one. It left a mark on the great mountain path, almost eternal damage. Merely nodding, the priestess continued on her way, keeping her eyes to the on the sun after each midday.

  
Sakura went west for many, many days uncounted. Seasons passed in their rhythms, cold following warm, health after sickness. She helped in farmers' fields during harvest, taught children how to read, and begged shelter where she could. Sakura bandaged wounds, mixed medicines and stew-pots, and told vibrant stories of the many kami mankind had worshipped and seen in visions. To these legends, she added the story of a priest always chewing mint, finding those chosen by the gods and leading them to places of refuge. Even now, she hoped her simple words would spin themselves into truth, and the spirit of the priest would continue on.

  
But always, the white dragon urged her to the west, whether raining or shining, whether death was eternal or only fleeting.

  
At last, she came to the edge of her land, sun-scorched beaches ravaged by pounding waves greeting her here. A great stone jutted out to the water, forming into a massive, unscalable cliff from the ocean. But before it became a cliff, it was flat enough to build a shrine on from the land.

  
Where the blood sun met the screaming white surf, a sky-eyed priestess followed the commands of a pure, monstrous dragon. Even if her only purpose was to build the shrine for the rest of her life, and never live in it, she would happily leave it there for the next one chosen

  
With only rocks, a pair of hands, and a dragon's unwavering gaze, the going was very slow. It only took a week for Sakura to realize the kami had gone about this the wrong way.

  
"Not I alone, but many." She hummed, setting back towards the east. The disgruntled dragon followed her, growling low but refusing to stop her.

  
The children she had healed and taught were older now, quickly becoming young men and women. None had ever forgotten Sakura, and the strength that had seemed to flow in the air around her.  
Guided by the dragon and her memories of the land, she went to the towns and villages, picking men to build the shrine, and women to help her fill it. "If you do this, you will have the protection of the white dragon kami for the rest of your life." She promised. "I will teach these girls to be priestesses and healers. They can stay at the shrine as long as they like, and return back to their homes when they are ready to serve as priestesses of their own shrines."

  
The lonely week spent building by the shore had seemed long and tedious. With many tools and experienced hands, the next three weeks spent building the shrine felt like a few hours. Artists had been taken with them, and Sakura taught them how to paint the white dragon on the walls. Scrolls and colored-paper windows depicted beautiful art of the dragon.

  
As time went on, and the shrine-maidens taught by Sakura came out into the world, the shrine only grew. Room was made for every woman and traveler that needed a place to stay. However, the womens' and mens' sections were kept carefully divided. The white dragon demanded that only the bodily pure could serve in this shrine. They could leave and do as they pleased afterwards, if they so wished, but they could not know desire and live there long. Sakura understood this, and for that reason, she only accepted women as shrine attendants. The men could only stay for a few nights, so as not to tempt her shrine maidens.

  
One day, a man chosen by the white dragon would come, and found a second shrine for the men. Sakura saw him often in her visions, examining her shrine, talking to her pupils. However, she never saw herself with him. She wondered at this, but said nothing. It would only worry her attendants. 

  
On day, one that seemed like any other, a storm of dust approached on the shrine's worn road. It was caused by fine horses with riders wearing armor, a great horde of them riding towards the shrine. Their spears pointed straight up to the sky, and it was obvious that they were warriors.

  
"Trouble." Sakura felt it in her heart, and whispered it. She called on the white dragon for strength, and walked out to meet them. Destiny demanded it of her, regardless of the danger.


	8. Do Souls Die Once?

(Mild nudity and implied sex warnings ahead, just in case)

Red hair fell across his white pillow-case, a dark shade in the starlight peeking through the window. Aki's eyelashes lay softly against her cheeks, her bare chest rising and falling as she slept. This was the first time Yusei had seen her so relaxed.

He had always thought the girl was beautiful. He had never tried to measure how beautiful, and his efforts to put it into words continued to fall flat. She was gorgeous, and sensuous, and like eternity, curving in on herself. Tonight, she looked too stunning for words.

There would dark bruises disrupting the white curve of her neck, marks bitten in the heat of their passionate moments. But she had hardly been gentle on his body either. They had matching wounds that would clear up in a few days.

Emotions churned inside his stomach, his body bare but heated. Admiration and arousal mixed in equal parts inside of him. Trying to clear his murky thoughts, Yusei decided to get some water. Carefully easing his numb arm from under Aki's head, he sat up, watching her settle back into deep sleep.

Oops. She stirred, her deep eyes looking up at him. For once, there was peace there. Like always, there was love. Right now, there was exhaustion too.

"Yusei?" She whispered, her voice rough from sleep.

He stroked his fingertips down her pale, slender arm, feeling the heat of her skin. "It's nothing. Go back to sleep."

She shook her head, pulling the sheets around herself as she sat up. "Stay with me?" Aki pleaded.

Yusei's heart shivered and ached under the burden of affection he carried. But it was a weight he would gladly bear, no matter the cost. He pulled her against his bare chest, letting her soft hand rest on the top of his thigh. The other tangled loosely in his long hair, gently curling and tugging in circles.

Yusei flushed, looking at her soft smile, her bright eyes. "Aki ... " He breathed, his breath becoming comfortably constricted.

"Yusei, I was dead." The hand on his thigh ran down to his knee, then slowly worked back up, sending shivers across his skin. Sensitive, Yusei let out a low groan, but didn't stop her.  
"I didn't have a reason to exist for myself. I only saw a future in clawing this world into dust, re-shaping it to some end, and not even my own." Aki had long fingernails. Long, and sharp. They trailed over him, dragging only inches away from dangerous places. Yusei bit back a louder moan, his whole body filling with heat. She knew too well what to do to him.

Aki still looked up at him, her eyes peaceful, trusting, and certainly in love. He was her hope and future. At the moment, she was his lifeline. He felt like his racing heartbeat would explode if she didn't keep her careful touch dancing across his skin. Aki always tried to tease him until the breaking point, and she was trying it again, even as she told him serious things.

"If I don't have you, I don't have a reason to live." She pleaded with him, and he reached for her.

"I'm not leaving you." Yusei fought to keep his voice level. He lost that fight. His throat was raw with emotion. "I love you. I love you, Aki."

She bowed her head, moving against his hands and hot body. "I love you too, Yusei. No matter how many ways I had to die in order to find you."

"I'll give you your reason to keep living." Yusei gasped. His self-control was reaching its very limit, tremors wracking his body. "You'll never die again."

Her eyes made his breath stop as she stared up at him solemnly. "Promise?" Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper against his lips.

"Promise."

So that was the meaning of love. To give and receive, to learn and to teach, even if you didn't know the lesson. With the stars as their witness, they made each other a pledge, for all eternity.


	9. Hymn to Satellite's King

Sapphire eyes and tussled black hair. A tattered jacket, padded at the joints, and black shirt underneath. A single golden scar shredded his tanned face, which was otherwise pleasing. The scar marked him as a convict, a man on the run.

  
At least, he had been. Things were different now.

  
The scarlet machine that he bet his life on so many times glittered in the sun, beckoning for his attention. It was his addiction and his release. Slinging a leg over the seat, Yusei Fudo stood still for a moment, revved his accelerator with his hand, steadying his foot on the pedal. No one would stop him from going as fast as he wanted on the dueling track.

  
King of Games. The title stuck to him like an ill-fitting crown. He didn't want fame and fortune, just a place for his friends to call home.

  
After saving Domino City, and the world, several times, Yusei was cynical about the peace that had fallen. He felt like he needed to go faster, farther, because this couldn't last. Maybe one day he could go fast enough to ease his independent heart.

  
Two Duelists rode ahead of him, monsters in the air beside them. Yusei caught up to them and passed them in the same moment. They were going half his speed, at most.

  
The speedometer crept ever higher, inching him closer to a world made of speed and wind and nothing else. Only sounds, scents, and destiny awaited him there. He could travel on such a road for eternity, lit only by stars.

  
Stardust Dragon thrived in such a place. Yusei Fudo could not. Reality was still faster than he was, and it caught him, eventually.

  
The duel track was a circle, bringing him back to the start. Familiar faces greeted him there - Jack, Akiza, Leo, Luna, and Crow.

  
"How's the track today?" Crow asked casually, wiping a spot from his helmet.

  
Yusei didn't answer him at first, throwing the kick-stand into place. He stood up, shedding his own red helmet. A lonely world made of speed with no one but himself along the way - that would be heart-breaking.

  
"It's fine. A good day for a ride.


	10. War Sketches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the author's equivalent to posting some unfinished sketches on an art blog, but I'm using words instead of pictures. I'm just using these to get the hang of writing fight scenes, attacking, etc. I'm going to have a new verse for my Priest Seto muse on my Tumblr rp blog soon, so I'm preparing for that in advance :3
> 
> Some gore and violence ahead. Also any criticism is fine. This is just trying to get the hang of things before I do new stuff.

[Image source](https://yande.re/post/show/379311)

_Hack, slash, claw, bite, duck, keep running, keep running. They can't hurt you when you're running. You're invincible when you're running. It doesn't matter if your wings hurt. It doesn't matter if there's a knife in your side. Just keep running. Everything's fine. You're not dying. You're not bleeding out. You're not an outcast. You're not special. You're just running because you can. Because you want to._

**Because you're going to die if you don't.**

Seto finally got enough momentum to take off, his torn wing slowing him down some, but not enough to keep him grounded. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but he continued to shakily climb into the air, making his escape. Why were there assassins after him? What did they want with a poor kid on the streets? Granted, a kid that had dragon wings. And eyes too blue to be human. And sometimes went into uncontrollable rages that left the area around him a pile of burning rubble.

But how had they found out about him? Seto always stayed away from cameras. How did they know where to find him? He was always on the move.

You're too different. You're not human. Even if you hide in the deepest darkness, you're made of brilliant white lightning.

A sharp crack of gunfire rang out, then a shout of anger, and a swear. Seto felt fire ripple through his back, his human skin turning into dragon scales just fast enough to keep the bullet from tearing through his lungs. As it was, blood dribbled down from the wound, his body having faded back into flesh. Seto wondered what kind of magic made this survival instinct kick in, wondered what kind of person had a dragon skin living right under his skin.

Another gunshot ripped from the ground below, this one hitting his uninjured wing. He moaned, dropping to the ground as pain spread throughout his sensitive wing membrane. He landed expertly on his feet, his knees bending slightly to account for his momentum. He was going to have to fight again.

_There are a lot of them. Probably too many. I wonder what they want with me. I don't think they're trying to kill me, or else they would have finished me off when they first found me, asleep. They want me alive._

It was the thing he had been running from this whole time: human monsters, trying to tear apart a monster to find what it was made of. Or maybe they were going to brainwash him and use him for their dirty deeds. Either way, Seto knew there was only pain involved for him. There was nowhere to run this time; he was trapped in an alley. He couldn't fly. He was losing blood, and his vision seemed to be blurring at the edges. That wasn't ok.

There were about a dozen men closing in on him now, dressed in dark clothes and holding bright blades. The metal caught the moonlight, glowing like silver. Like stars. Like white dragon scales or claws or wings reflecting the light back onto their greedy faces. Seto only had bloody wings.

**You're going to die.**

_I know. I'm going to die or get tortured and no on is going to care. I will kill and someone will care, but not enough to be able to stop me._

**Nothing can stop you.**

_Not as long as I am you._

Seto had gotten into the habit of talking to the dragon inside him. It had surprised him the first time the dragon had talked back. Now, its voice was just a part of his thoughts.

The hunters closed in now, slowly creeping forward on quiet feet, their blades held out like a warning. A few had guns in their other hand. Seto did not back against the wall. That wouldn't give him enough room to move his wings. Instead, he turned his body slightly to the side, extending his huge, hard-boned wings to strike into their faces, knock them back. A few caught on, and dodged in time to cut into the tender membrane. Seto winced; that _hurt_. The first of his targets got struck in the face or the head, reeling back in pain as their skulls hit his wingbones with loud thuds. Blood spattered with each stretch and flap of his wing. He was losing too much. The knife in his side still burned dully, as if reminding him of its presence. Was it poisoned? Seto's sight was getting so blurry now ...

For as long as he could, he kept his wings extended, slamming into any hunters who tried to get close. He buffeted them with the leathery insides, bruising them with the bones. They darted back from each push, lunging in to carve the leather into bloody shreds. It would grow back, so Seto wasn't worried about permanent damage. However, each stab sent pain shooting through his nervous system. He couldn't hold them off forever.

Thinking quickly, he stepped beside one knife thrust, moving with a speed no human could match. He rammed his fist into a man's jaw, sending him reeling to the ground with a loud cry. Instantly, another man was on Seto's back, trying to get an arm around his throat. He flexed his wing, and the man was shoved off behind him, into the wall.

**Go into your rage. Fight them off.**

_I can't! It drains me too much! If there's any more of them close by, they'll find me and take me away. Besides, everyone in the city will know where I am if I rampage now. _

The dragon growled, but retreated. It wanted to crush them with breath made of fire. Seto couldn't let that happen. He ducked below a knife cut, flaring his wings to push back other attackers. He was bleeding too much. He was going to be sick. He would be unconscious already if he weren't the dragon. Snarling in pain, he ripped the knife from his side and began swinging it wildly, recklessly. He could only see blurs and floating spots, but he was going to create wounds of his own before he went down. He felt the knife connect with soft tissue, and a distant scream. Strange how far away his own hand had become. And yet, it still was enough to rip open a man's chest, a hunter who had been too slow.

**You are dying.**

_We are dying._

He agreed with the dragon, dropping to his knees. His wings were a shredded mess of blood and bone. Seto didn't want to move. He was going to die.

A moment later, a gag was in his mouth, and Seto's whole world was gradually spiraling into blackness.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Knives or bare hands?" Mahad asked, stripping free of his armor. Underneath, he only wore a pale robe and a loincloth. His square hands ran over the blades of the weapons, taking them up, testing their weight.

"Put that down." Seto scoffed. Gently laying his khepresh to the side, he ran his fingers through his tousled hair, also dressed in only a loincloth and light robe. "We're fighting with our hands today. I want to take you down without the help of any weapon - not that I need it."

"That's not how I remember our last sparring session going." Mahad quirked a brow at him with a bemused smirk. "You must be getting forgetful, Seto."

He merely snorted in response, stretching his arms and legs and twisting his torso. "You caught me off guard. I won't underestimate you again." He said, flexing and unflexing his fingers. Beckoning Mahad, he led him to the center of the dusty courtyard. "Come."

The soldiers liked to watch the priests when they sparred, whether they used magic or their fists. Gathering along the walls or down around the edges of the courtyard, they watched as the two squared up, talking quietly among themselves. They were already placing bets on the outcome, arguing about who would best the other. Mahad was faster, but Seto was obviously stronger. His lithe body rippled with muscles, his tone dark from exposure to the sun. Mahad was paler and thin; everyone already knew he spent more time indoors. One of the men called, "Ready!"

They both took fighting stances, turning their bodies away from their opponent. Seto's gaze slowly traveled up and down Mahad's body, sizing it up for weaknesses, noting where he was off-balanced. Mahad seemed quite measured, his stance narrow and rooted. His eyes stayed steady.

The man gave the signal to start.

Seto moved immediately, throwing an arm around his opponent's head. Mahad grunted, ducking and backing away with his guard up. Without hesitating, Seto continued his assault, throwing jabs at his head and forcing him to block. One last time, he feinted a jab to the head, then moved in and slammed a punch into Mahad's chest. The slender priest let out a pained gasp, but managed to retaliate with a kick to the knee. That disrupted Seto enough to protect Mahad from a finishing blow to the head.

"Too slow." Mahad gasped, retreating so he could draw breath.

Seto didn't say anything in reply.

Yo, that's it XD This is the author's note. Feel free to check out more of my corrupted dragon Seto on my tumblr roleplay blog, [@blue-eyed-priest](https://blue-eyed-priest.tumblr.com), or check out my personal blog [@brown-eyed-mun. ](https://brown-eyed-mun.tumblr.com/)I'll make sure to keep the blog updated with my writing journey and stuff like that as I keep moving forward. Hope you enjoyed, and have a good day!


	11. Skyline (Kisara X Kaiba)

Kisara was more beautiful the darker the night became.

  
Yes, the midday sun made her white hair like a brilliant curtain of light. Certainly, the morning made her seem as mysterious and wonderful as a fairy's shadow. But the starlight loved her best, sending a whole new set of shadows into her skin, speckling her eyes with pure, full moons.

  
As Kisara walked into Kaiba's office, the only light that touched her was the never-ending blaze of the city outside his windows. Startled from his work by her sudden entrance, he looked up, his eyes snagging on her slender legs, curved hips, midnight-blue eyes. The chiaroscuro of twilight on her skin caught him in a spell. Despite himself, Kaiba couldn't catch the word that dripped from his stolen breath.

  
"Beautiful."

  
Kisara frowned, his voice too low for her to hear. "What did you say?"

  
The sound let reality slip back in to Kaiba's mind. "Nothing." He said. The word came harsher than he intended.

  
She winced. Kaiba rushed to repair the damage. "You're just ... beautiful."

  
A glow of warmth spread from within her, bursting into a smile as brilliant as lightning. An answering grin tugged at Kaiba's mouth, pestering him in an unfamiliar way. He smiled to himself often, but rarely at others.

  
"You're so sweet!" Kisara beamed, going over to him.

  
Her brightness in the gloom took his breath away from afar. When she was close, his breath came rushing back, hard and fast. Her scent (subtly floral with a touch of exotic spices), her eyes (reflecting him back from her depths), her shape, her warmth, her touch, her body and soul and self and being ...

  
He gripped her fingers suddenly, tightly, mainly to stop himself from touching anything else. They had been dating for over a month, but they had shared their first kiss only a week before. He didn't want to push her too far. Still, he felt the need to hold her, wrap her in his body and safety.

  
Kisara saw the devotion burning in his eyes, and smiled softly, the smile of one who knows and gives, and is returned, love. She leaned against his chair, letting her mouth settle in his thick brown hair.

  
She kissed him, soft sweet kisses that left tingles dancing across his skin. His heart surged, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. He pressed her hand to his lips, longing for something he wouldn't put into words - not to Kisara, anyway. The burden of his desire would be his alone, for now. But he wanted.

  
"Come here," His voice was rough and low, sending pleased shivers down Kisara's spine. Kaiba tugged her into him, settling her in his lap. Even seated on top of him, she was still a little shorter than him. He rested his chin on her head.

  
Nervous, but not scared, Kisara clung to him, her face buried in his shoulder.

  
"Why did you come in here?" Kaiba asked, his lips a mere breath from her ear. Kisara rarely came to see him at work, and he certainly hadn't expected her here this late. Today was only a few ticks away from tomorrow.

  
"It's late." She said softly, her mouth against his neck. He shuddered, his hands reaching for hers. "I tried to call your cell, but you never picked up."

Kaiba took his phone off of his desk, unlocking it. "It was set to vibrate. I didn't even notice."

  
Her pale, slender fingers cut through the darkness, plucking the phone away. He gave it up without complaint. "I'm glad you came."

  
"I was worried." She scolded gently. "I was going to stay with you and Mokuba tonight. We watched movies at the mansion and waited for you."

  
"Sorry." Kaiba had never felt the word come so easily. Here he was, admitting his fault to another person - and it felt right. "Let me know beforehand, next time. I'm not good with spontaneous."

  
Blue eyes, white hair, pure maiden; she had a solid, real weight to her. Her arms held him tight, her voice a melody that slipped into his skin.

  
"O-K." She replied, cheerful. As she looked up at him, her eyes filled with a deep peace.

  
"You can trust me." Kaiba said suddenly. A feeling had stirred in him, like she needed to hear him speak his devotion to her. "Always. If you ask, I'm there."

  
Kisara contemplated him, and nodded. "I know I can. And I will always come to your call, Seto." She traced a finger over the card-shaped necklace Kaiba always wore, her expression carefully intent.

  
Bliss and desire mingled in Kaiba's bloodstream, for he both loved what he had and wanted more. Tipping her head to his, he kissed her mouth, feeling her surprise and shyness. He didn't press, but was constant with the force he used. Kisara braced against him, gently resisting while giving in.

  
"It's late," Kaiba finally mumbled, pulling back from her yearnings. "Let me drive you to the apartment."

  
Kisara shook her head, slowly, staying tucked into him. "Can I go to the mansion with you?"

  
His heart skipped a beat, then crashed into his rib cage. How could he refuse her? Especially with that request.

  
"Alright. Let's go home."

Hello, dear readers! Whatchu been up to? Haha, I need to start writing more, because I only have a few one-shots left that I haven't posted! I have been trying to write new one-shots, but I've also been putting a lot of work into a novel-length story. I hope to have chapter 1 and 2 finished by January 1st, but we'll see how it goes. 

As always, good luck, and happy dueling!


	12. Winged X Academia

[(Image Source)](https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/59250364)

The Test was today. 

The Test, with capitol T’s for both words. Everyone knew what you were talking about when you said it. It was how your branch of magic and your talent for it was discovered, and how well you scored determined your fate. Would you be a wandering Alchemist with a low score, or a top-tier Necromancer with a score high enough to become a king? Being on time and prepared was an important part of taking The Test, as only 2 retakes were allowed in your whole life – and one of those was used when you came of age.

Yuki Judai was going to be late for The Test. There was no way he could be on time at this rate. As he was in a backwoods town, the test was to be administered in the tavern, and that was a 2-mile walk from his farm – even running the whole way, there was still no time. But it wasn’t that big a deal, right? Like, it wasn’t like his whole life was depending on it. Or that his scores would be used against him for the rest of his days. Except, of course, they would be.

The touch of the sun and the taste of the wind seemed to carry him along as he gasped for breath, sprinting hard. All of nature was harmonizing, getting out of the way for his arrival – but humanity had no such calling. The streets were crowded with anxious family members, and the guards keeping them back from the tavern. The hot crush felt like it was squeezing Judai to death, and he barely managed to make it through the press with grunts and sharp elbows. “Hey, I’m a Test-taker!” He tried to yell, but even his voice was lost in the crowd. 

Thankfully, he had remembered to grab his Test-ticket, and was able to show the crumpled piece of paper to a guard in armor. With a sigh, he grabbed Judai by the arm, dragging him in a straight line through the crowd to the rusty tavern door. “Here you go, lad.” He grunted. 

“Uh, thanks.” Judai winced, rubbing his arm. He was where he needed to be, but ouch, his shoulder had nearly been pulled out of his socket! 

The tavern was not a squat building, or a small one. Tall and proud, its pale brown roof rose up like a curved-over witch’s hat, the building below shaped like a cylinder. The bottom part was made of wood dyed green, and a hag outback sold rare magical items from a sagging porch. Inside, it was warm, a huge fireplace blazing on the side. Children from all around, about the same age as Judai, all milled in the main room. They hadn’t taken The Test yet, as they were all on edge, or anxiously studying papers and books. The stairs to the second floor were cordoned off, a short man standing in front of them. Judai assumed he was a Summoner, as he was wearing the dark blue robes that denoted him as such. 

There was something different about this Summoner, though. There was gold jewelry lining his arms and clasped around his neck, and his robes seemed to made of very shiny, expensive material. But his hair was wild and black in the back, his bangs yellow like sunlight. His flame-colored tips seemed to waver in the firelight, and a small smile twitched at his lips. He was a guard, but a kind one – a different kind of man. Or maybe he was an older child? It was hard to tell, with his small stature. 

A tall, stern Wizard came down the stairs, and the Summoner pulled the cord away from the stairs. The Wizard read off a list of names, and one by one, the other children in the lobby came forward, passing by the Wizard and the smiling Summoner to take The Test. 

Judai’s name was not called. Anxious and unsure of what to do, he lingered behind, watching the cord get pulled back as the Wizard stalked back up the stairs. It seemed like the best course of action was to talk to the kind Summoner. 

“Um, excuse me... ?” He said, grinning nervously as he came up. 

The Summoner sighed, his eyes softening. “You’re Yuki Judai, right? They called your name earlier, and you were the only person not to show up. They should let you take your test, but expect to get a lecture on the virtues of punctuality!” 

Judai heaved a breath in relief, throwing his hands up. “Wooph, that’s good to know! Thanks!” 

“It’s no problem. Good luck on The Test!” He gave Judai a thumbs-up. “Maybe you’ll be a Summoner, and I’ll get to see you around the college of spirits!” 

“Uhh, the what?” Judai asked, tipping his head. 

“It’s one of the most powerful places on earth to summon spirits.” He explained. “You can summon spirits anywhere, but some of the most powerful spirits are on the ‘top shelf’. Summoning from more powerful places are like dragging up a stool to get to them.” 

“Makes sense.” He nodded, leaning casually against the wall. “Why’s it called a college?” 

“Summoners go there to learn their craft. Teachers gather to impart wisdom on the young, and the more experienced go to summon spirits for their missions.” The Summoner offered him a hand. “I’m Yugi, by the way. Even if you don’t become a Summoner, consider giving it a visit sometime! There’s lots of magical lore there, and you can ask one of the librarians to find me. We can grab food and study, maybe craft something new.” 

Judai shook his hand firmly, but shook his head quickly at the offer. Yugi frowned, and Judai rushed to explain himself. “I mean, lunch sounds great, but I’m not much into studying! I prefer to wing it when it comes to trying new things, if you know what I mean.” 

Laughing, Yugi cheerily squeezed his hand. “Alright, then we’ll just get lunch! But just so you know, the best wizards are made, not born. You have to study a lot to get ahead.” 

No one had ever said that to him about magic. All Judai knew were epics and lengends about great wizards. They mentioned a lot of blasting and fighting evil monsters, but they didn’t say a lot about books and sitting still and reading. “Man, I thought all you had to do was learn from a master for like a week and then you could go blast demon lords!” He groaned. 

Yugi shook his head sternly. “Nope, that’s not how it works – unfortunately. If it were that easy, then all those magicians wouldn’t be in legends, you know. Everyone would just defeat demon lords themselves!” 

Judai just shrugged. Why did Yugi make being a magician sound like schoolwork? Maybe he would just stay a farmer at home... but then he would never be able to have adventures and fight monsters and find a band of heroes to quest with! It was tough to think about, so Judai decided not to think. He would just go where the wind took him – like always. 

“I’m gonna be in a legend one day, you know.” He grinned. “I’ll be a magician that people tell stories about!” 

“That’s a big ambition.” Yugi smiled. “But I think I want to be part of your story, Judai.” 

What? “Part of my story?” He echoed, confused by his words. 

“Yeah! Even if we never meet again, I’ll give you a gift, so it can become part of your legend.” Yugi explained. “And it will help you along your journey.” He started going through his pockets, taking out what seemed like a deck of cards. “After they’ve been summoned, spirits are held within cards.” He held one up. It was made of pure silver, and had strange, swirling symbols carved into it. 

“Wow, that’s really amazing!” Judai gasped. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. That much silver was worth at least a cow, and he suspected that getting it prepared to host a spirit made it much more expensive. “There’s a spirit inside there... ?” 

“That’s right.” Yugi nodded. “They sleep within the cards, usually. But when you walked into the room, one of my spirits woke up. It’s been dying to meet you this whole time.” He offered Judai the card. “There are some spirits and people who are meant to be together, and even if you don’t know Summoner’s craft, the spirit will still come to your call. Give it a try.” 

Judai took the card reverently, his hand shaking with uncertainty. “I mean, are you sure? This is your spirit! I don’t want to take it, or something... ” 

Yugi shook his head. “It’s fine! It’s a Familiar spirit, so its main ability is helping magicians. I already have a Familiar, so I couldn’t use this guy anyway. But having a Familiar from a young age will increase your ability significantly, and it’s a gift you can use your whole life.” He noticed Judai’s expression, and pushed his hands around the card, squeezing it into his fingers. “It wants to be with you, Judai.” 

Still unsure, but willing to try, he nodded. It seemed that Yugi wanted him to have it, so he was he to deny such a gift? Puling his fingers free, he held up the card, uncertain of what he was supposed to do with the spirit. What was a Familiar anyway? Didn’t Witches use cats or something as familiars to cast curses on people? “Uh, come on out!” He commanded. 

The silver warmed in his hand, and a blast of light flowed from it, opening up into a floating brown ball of fur. It had feathered wings, like an angel, and an otherworldly glow surrounded it. “Wow!” Judai gasped, flinching back. He had called on a spirit, and it had come to him!

It turned to Judai now, its wide eyes full of excitement. “That’s a Winged Kuriboh.” Yugi explained. “It can store magical energy, and go into places that you can’t to find ingredients for potions. You can use it to communicate with spirits, whether evil or good. It even absorbs curses.” 

Judai didn’t have time to reply before the Winged Kuriboh was barreling into him, giving excited squeaks and mewls. “Woah! Down boy!” He groaned, wrapping his arms around it to. That didn’t slow it down much. 

“See?” Yugi laughed loudly. “It likes you!” 

“Does this thing ever calm down?” Judai groaned, pushing the excited bundle of fur away. It let out another squeak, then cuddled close to him again. “OK, OK, I’m right here!” 

“Give it a little time. It'll get used to you eventually.” The diminutive Summoner gently tugged on a wing, and it pulled away, circling around Yugi before settling in front of Judai again. ”Anyway, good luck on The Test. The other students will be done soon.” 

Judai nodded, tucking the card into his pocket carefully. He would try not to lose something so precious, which had been given to him for no cost. “You’re... really generous, Yugi. Thanks a lot.” 

Yugi nodded, patting his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not easy to be a magician from the country with nothing going for you but your name. Some people look down on magicians like you. It’s really horrible that society is structured in such a way, but magic isn’t everything. Remember that, OK? And show ‘em what you’ve got on that test!”

Magic isn’t everything.

Judai had to learn that lesson hard after his test was finished. Yugi had left with the last group of test-takers, leaving Judai to labor over the piece of paper alone for almost half an hour. His Kuriboh had retreated to the card, his hidden presence reassuring in Judai’s pocket. When the stern Wizard was done with the grading, he gave a presumptuous sniff, giving Judai gis results with a stern word.

“Alchemist.”

Magic isn’t everything.

Alchemy was the least ‘magical’ of all the branches of magic. Some said even said it was just science with pizzazz. Little mana was needed to cast alchemical spells, and most of it required merely gathering the components. A poor Alchemist was confined to a life of hunting for ingredients – or giving up on magic altogether.

Magic isn’t everything. But Judai was going to be a legendary magician.

“Alchemist?” Judai echoed weakly. “You’re kidding, right?”

The Wizard gathered up a stack of papers, wrapping his cloak snugly around his thin shoulders. “No, young man. You are an Alchemist, whether you like it or not. Now go back to your cows, and hope you have enough magical talent to make a decent stew sometimes.”

But… Yugi had given him a Familiar! Kuriboh had given up his whole life to go with Judai! And Judai had been betting his whole life on his magical abilities. And yet he had manifested as an Alchemist?

“Well. I guess we’re going home, partner.” Judai sighed to his Kuriboh, tossing his hands in his pockets. There were schools that taught Alchemists how to work their craft, but there was no way his family had enough money to send him to one. He was trapped in this life, with no money that could buy him to a higher class of magic, or a different way to live. Was that all that the world was about?

Judai didn’t doubt that Alchemy’s biggest claim to fame really was trying to turn lead into gold. It probably made life a lot easier if you could turn rocks into money. But the masters of his craft couldn’t even do that. How was Judai supposed to?

The only thing he had was Yugi’s card made out of silver. Maybe… would that be enough for a year of tuition? Or at least a few weeks’ worth of lessons?

And so, a week later, an amazed Cronos d’Medici was being handed a silver spirit-card, engraved with the marking of the Leader of the Council of Summoners, Yugi Muto. This Leader believed firmly in supporting children after taking The Test, and often scouted out promising poor students for schools that were too expensive for them – not that Judai knew that. A Winged Kuriboh fluttered its wings at his side – a winged counterpart to Yugi’s own familiar, the powerful curse-blocking Kuriboh. It was wildy out of place, compared to Judai's pleading, slightly starving eyes and dirty face.

His mouth open in awe, this teacher of magic knew that there was only one thing to be done, despite this boy’s poor upbringing and shoddy clothes.

“Come in, Signore Judai!”

I saw a piece of fanart on Pixiv of Judai as an Alchemist with a Winged Kuriboh familiar, and it was so cute! It made me want to write a story to go with it - or at least, a one-shot. If you're interested in seeing more of Judai's story(or even using the setting of Judai as an Alchemist used in a different way), give me comments and things! I like hearing you guys' ideas and feedback and stuff. It helps me to know what sort of stuff you dear readers like the most, and keeps me more inspired to write stuff for you. If you've enjoyed my work so far, and want to help me thrive, consider checking out my Tumblr [@brown-eyed-mun](https://brown-eyed-mun.tumblr.com/). It's a great way to help me out :3

As always, good luck, and happy dueling!


	13. Poetry and Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sometimes I write poems...
> 
> My favorite kind of poem to write is a clerihew, a biographical, 4-line poem with the rhyme structure AABB. The first line of the poem is the subject's name, and the other 3 lines summarize the person's achievements, personality, or critical failures. It's supposed to be light-hearted and humorous, and I rather enjoy making them. Below I've got a few clerihews about Yu-Gi-Oh! characters, and an extra 4-line poem that I have. It feels like it should fit into the scale of a larger work or something, but I wasn't sure what to do with it, so I'll drop it in with the rest of these guys.

**Atem's Resting Hymn**

My name, hidden from me for so long

I cling to it now, my memories

Sung to the tune of a friend’s battle song

I know there is light in a world of tragedies

The dark spirit was named Yami

The counterpart to Yugi, the _hikari_

Perhaps he once was the Pharaoh

But maybe he’ll never know

Vessel, Muto Yugi

Carried his Yami

Made into the once and future king

His swordbound silence is thundering

Poor Kaiba Seto

Was left all alone to

Inherit a fortune and company

At the cost of his own sanity

The younger, Kaiba Mokuba

Cared for and forgotten by Nii-Sama

Was crushed and hurt and captured

But it never harmed his sense of wonder

Lovely, thoughtful, Mazaki Anzu

She loved the wrong one and she knew

Loss hurts and tears ran down her face

That she would only step with more strength and grace

Jonouchi Katsuya

Loves you if he knew ya!

Loyalty and luck, with friendship to spare

Ready to fight or help out anywhere


	14. Taller

[(Image source)](https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/70398703)

"Hugs and cuddles are unbecoming." Kaiba stated flatly, yet again refusing his crush's advances.

  
"Hugs and cuddles are the basis of a relationship." Atem shot back. Only three days, and he was already regretting ever offering Kaiba the chance to figure out where they were. They weren't exactly _together_, but they both had a **thing** for each other. Atem didn't have time to be the kind of person that gave up on things, no matter how slim the chances of success. "Not sex. Not dueling. It's love and companionship."

  
Kaiba's expressionless blue eyes bore into him, his legs kicked up casually on his desk. Their slender chances only seemed to be getting smaller and smaller. "And you're interrupting my work right now just to tell me that? If you don't have anything else to say, then leave."

  
Atem darted over, peeking at Kaiba's computer screen before the other could turn away. "You're looking at decklists from the last regional tournament." He said, smirking. "Last I checked, that wasn't part of your job description."

  
Kaiba scowled, shutting his computer. "Fine, you caught me." Taking his legs off the desk, he patted his thighs twice in a 'come here' motion, a gesture that was now familiar to them both.

  
A smile crept its way across Atem's lips, and he stepped softly over to Kaiba. He stopped in front of him, leaning casually against Kaiba's knees. At this angle, they were at the same eye level. "So this is what it's like to look you in the eye." Atem smiled. He was teasing now, his breath dripping mere inches away from Kaiba's nose.

  
"Don't get used to it." Kaiba smirked, straightening his back and sitting up all the way up. He was taller than Atem now.

  
Atem pouted, clambering up Kaiba's legs to kneel between the CEO's thighs. Balancing with his hands on Kaiba's shoulders, he smiled triumphantly down at his rival. "Look who's the short one now." He crowed, nuzzling into Kaiba's soft brown bangs.

  
Kaiba only rolled his eyes, relaxing back into the chair. Atem wobbled, sinking with him as he moved. "I'll let you savor the taste of victory ... for now." Kaiba teased, his eyes shining with the focused energy Atem knew so well. "As soon as I leave this chair, I'll be the winner."

  
"Don't be so sure." Atem beamed back, meeting Kaiba's challenging nature. He tapped the CEO's nose with his lips, feeling Kaiba's warm breath as it passed him. "I have a little _something_ in mind... "

  
"Oh? What sort of strategy do you have for overcoming my height, Pharaoh? That's something that hasn't changed in three thousand years." Kaiba felt the blood in his body began to drain downwards, and he fought to keep his thoughts pure. His office wasn't designed for quickies, and he didn't want to clean up the mess they would leave behind, either.

  
But Atem was so sexy when they were competing! It really wasn't fair. His slender rival knew how his tone of voice and the shine of his eyes affected Kaiba, and yet he did it anyway. Perched on Kaiba's lap, Atem could feel the other's breathing change as his body tightened. They were getting into it now, the real heat of their relationship: the fierce spirits that had joined them together from the very beginning.

  
"Hugs and cuddles." He chided gently, balancing gracefully on Kaiba.

  
"Unbecoming." Kaiba grunted.

  
"Nope. Just right." Atem threw his arms behind Kaiba's shoulders, squeezing his strong body tightly.

  
Kaiba grinned, despite himself. It felt good. He grabbed Atem now, running his fingers up and down the other's sides until he giggled.

  
"It tickles!" He squealed, suddenly squirming away. That wasn't fair!

  
"Tell me your plan and I'll stop!" Kaiba growled, continuing his paralyzing attack. He wasn't sure exactly what had come over him, but this sort of touch was satisfying for them both - and <strike>probably</strike> wouldn't make a mess.

  
"Ne-he-ver!" Atem wheezed, wriggling desperately as he reached his arms away from Kaiba. "No!"

  
But the other was too big, too strong, too fast. Kaiba buried his face in his neck, blowing a wet kiss into his skin as he continued to tickle his sides and stomach. Atem writhed, beating on his chest. "No more! Please!" He begged. "You win, you win!"

  
Kaiba laughed, ending his heartless assault, letting Atem pant for breath against his chest. "Alright. Only this once, and only because I care about you."

  
Atem straightened, his eyes widening a little. Had he really heard his lover right? "Care?" He questioned, peering straight into Kaiba's glacier eyes. "Do you... you really mean that, don't you?"

  
"Of course." Kaiba said, startled. He hadn't been saying the words very seriously, but Atem seemed to take it as some kind of declaration of love. Like their entire future and life together would be bound by that one little word. Like caring for each other could bind them into one being, one breathing, one scent.

  
"Kaiba, you do ... love me, right?" Atem asked quietly, kneeling back on the other's lap. He looked up at Kaiba, his eyelashes fluttering softly against his tanned cheeks.

  
Kaiba hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Enough to spare your life, at least." He smirked quickly. The dark shadow of kohl against skin bronzed and shining was like a copper setting framing a brilliant gem and worked through with black lace. It was brilliant, and breath-taking, and ridiculously real. A few moments later, he realized he was staring, his eyes completely fixed on the other. Atem flushed gently under his gaze, dipping his head to keep his eyes down.

  
Feeling his legs begin to ache under Atem's weight, Kaiba shifted. The Pharaoh sensed his discomfort, and slid away, standing in front of him again. Kaiba tilted his head, studying his body.

  
"Good." Atem smiled. "Because I, umm, love you too." He stood on his toes, planting a quick kiss on Kaiba's forehead.

  
Kaiba laughed, but it wasn't in a cheerful way. "So what? Is this how things are now, after all this time?" He wanted them to come together, wanted to reach out and squeeze Atem tightly against him. And yet, he couldn't stand this closeness, this desire consuming him. Did he want to be burned by these flames, or to let them fade?

  
"Yes, it is." Atem nodded, seeing the conflict in his eyes. "We're ... together." He grabbed Kaiba's hand, tugging him to his feet. Scrambling up and placing one foot on the desk, Atem climbed the CEO, sitting on his shoulders. Kaiba let him do it, balancing out his weight. "I'm taller." He crowed from his perch. His thighs squeezed around the other's head, enveloping him with warmth. 

  
"Only because of me." Kaiba scoffed, but let him stay where he was, tipping his head back to look up at his lover.

  
"And that's fine." Atem grinned, running his fingers through the other's hair. "I wouldn't want to be taller anywhere else."


	15. This Isn't a Story...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just a rant about Yu-Gi-Oh! Sevens lol.

Heyyyy guys. I'm still working on a novel-length fanfiction right now, so it will take me another week or so to get another one-shot out. I promise I'm working hard! 

In the meantime, I want to talk about the newest Yu-Gi-Oh! series coming out soon, Yu-Gi-Oh! Sevens. The trailer is right here: [tada](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yAhLIklnVC0).

Thoughts? Feelings?

Yeah, I'm disappointed. Where did the artstyle go? What is with this Kaiba wannabe playing THE Blue-Eyes White Dragon?! Why was VRAINS cut short for this show about literal children? And WHY, WHY so many sevens????????

Here's the premise of the show: Oudo Yuga who attends Goha 7th Elementary, is a 5th Grader who develops inventions every day that he calls “Roads”. Yuga, who thinks the way Duels are run by adults are way too rigid and uncool, comes up with a new rule set everyone can enjoy. In the days that follow, Luke in the next class over hears the rumor of a “King of Duels”. Investigating this with Yuga, they run into a mysterious person standing before an important monument… … In order to be recognized as a King of Duels, you’ve gotta win Duels within a limited time! “The Road I Dreamed Up, “Rush Duels” Can Do It!” The story of Yuga and Luke, two young boys about to overturn the world of rigid unfun Duels with a new style is about to begin!!

So he's literally every 11 year old that plays Yu-Gi-Oh! - you know, making up his own rules and all that. (In case you didn't know, that is how you play the card game irl lol). Also, everyone complains that Links are dumb and unfun. Everyone complains that Speed duels are boring. Pendulums broke the game. So now, we're going to make an entirely different kind of card! So now, we're going to bring fun back to games!

I'm not expecting much, but at least they could have kept the art style the same - !

What do you have to say? Tell me what you think about this <strike>disaster of a</strike> trailer. I want to believe in this new series, but honestly, we'll just have to see how things go. It could be good! (Honesty I hope it's bad so that they won't keep making series like this.)


	16. Winged X Necromancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second one-shot in my Alchemist Judai AU

To say that Marafuji Ryo could talk to the dead would be a vast understatement. He could converse with skeletons as naturally as in his native tongue, and rise an army of bones in a matter of moments. He was a prodigy in the field of Necromancy, and everyone had high hopes for this child who had reached the highest level of academical Necromancy.  
  
"He'll go far in the arena." "He'll be on the next Council of Necromancers, no doubt." "Did you see how he outscored every single student in magical schools this year? He graduated top of every class!" Whispers ran through the crowd as he stepped into his first fight in the Mystic Arena. He had launched out of school into the only Council-sanctioned fighting ring, intending to make his fame and fortune there.  
  
"They say he was fed up of theories and such. He wanted practical application of all the dark spells he was told about." There was one hag that seemed a little more knowledgable about the new contender than the rest. Her gab quickly gathered more gossip, and it wasn't long before the arena was full of whispers and half-truths.  
  
Raising an arm, Ryo turned to look at every whisperer and fan, or so it seemed, with how piercing his eyes were. A magic amplifier made his voice loud enough to be heard by the whole crowd, and without shouting, they all heard him say: "Death is here... "  
  
A sudden, strange stillness fell across them. It was one frail thing to say that death is here; it was another thing to be staring straight into the obsidian eyes of the greatest Necromancer of all time.  
  
Satisfied, Ryo crossed his arms, falling silent again. The announcer faltered, then brought out his opponent: Cheruk Bodelair, a Wizard of low reputation. He leered at Ryo, his muscled torso clad in only leather straps to hold up his ragged pants. He looked poor, and hungry.  
  
The two were opposites. Ryo, strong, calm, straight-backed. His costly jet-black jacket swirling to the floor, lined with silvered bones. His face pale, graveyard dirt under his fingernails. Cheruk was tanned by the sun, his clothes torn and faded. He wore a metal glove on one wrist, spiked and rusty. He was unkempt, and had probably slept outside the night before.  
  
"You think you're something, eh little boy?" The peasant sneered. "You come in here with your jacket all shiny, and your Hope's all high, just 'cuz you got a few good test results. I've seen your type here before."  
  
Ryo inclined his head slightly in curiosity. "And what type would that be?" He queried, his voice low.  
  
Cheruk spat a gob of snot onto the floor, taking a few steps forward as he began to stretch his rugged arms. "Academic little bastards who know how to read books and nothing else. They come shootin' out of school, their robes all pretty. An' then I pound 'em to the dirt and scar their little faces from cheek to chin with me ol' glove." He shook out his hand covered by the gauntlet, the spikes glinting dangerously. "Them medics carry those little scholars out, scarred for life. Then the ref holds up me hand, and declare me winner. And that's how it's going to be tonight. Same old, same old."  
  
Ryo didn't flinch, or reply to the taunts. His only response was to raise his hand, preparing his spell. It would take Cheruk approximately 5 seconds to cross the arena and reach him, and about 4.5 seconds to cast a spell to protect himself. He was confident in his abilities.  
  
As he expected, Cheruk barreled straight towards him, his gloved hand reaching out for the kill. What Ryo hadn't expected was for him to use a burst of fire magic with his second hand, giving him a sudden drive forward. His opponent crossed the arena in 3.7 seconds, forcing Ryo to dodge back.  
  
But he didn't break concentration, the most important part of casting a spell. Cheruk wasn't expecting the rattle of old bones and plate armor, and he dodged back, unsure of what the youth had done.  
  
Ryo did not smile, or frown, or even seem out of breath. There was some arena dust settling over his clothes, but otherwise, he seemed unchanged. A portal to the world of the dead (the basis of a Necromancer's defense and offense) was churning in the floor at his feet. A dull rattle echoed from the portal, like some monster trying to raise its voice.  
  
Then a dragon skeleton burst up from the black swirl, covered in tight-fitting metal armor. Its empty eye sockets were full of cold light, the same shade as Ryo's eyes. The bones were his puppets, each controlled by his will. He was moving his hands now, as if dragging the bones by invisible strings.  
  
Off-balance but not afraid yet, Cheruk held his ground, lifting his fists defensively in the face of Ryo's ritual motions. Swaying and bending his arms and wrists in a practiced dance, the Necromancer sent the bones moving forward, all straining forward together in an almost lifelike crawl. The monster hunted for Cheruk, trying to crush the Wizard with its weight.  
  
He growled, slamming his palms together. A burst of flame spewed out, blasting the monster's metal plates. They didn't melt, and neither did the bones, though they did get a little sooty.  
  
"Run." Ryo breathed, and jerked both hands forward. The bone monster surged, and leaped onto Cheruk.  
  
For a moment, Ryo thought he had won. Then, a burst of heat alerted him to Cheruk's movements; the other had used his fire to jet back from the monster's crushing weight. "Good job." The Necromancer called. "I won't miss this time." He began pacing around his portal, weaving patterns in the air with his fingers.  
  
Cheruk only growled, letting a stream of sparks and smoke shoot out of his fongers. "Idiot! I'll wipe that smirk off your face." He brought his hands together, aiming at the bone monster. Concentrating on a spell of his own, he shot out a geyser of flame so hot, it was blue. Everyone in the stands recoiled from the heat, from the closest seats to the nosebleeds. The temperature changed immediately, and beads of sweat slipped down the faces of both magicians.  
  
But that wasn't enough to melt the bone-dragon. It let out another dry roar, coiling away from the flames, but not even its metal armor seemed affected.  
  
"You enchanted it!" Cheruk gasped, letting the fire die away. "It... it's fireproof... " His grandstanding persona had fallen away. There was nothing he could do now, unless he could get past this metal-clad monster to attack the Necromancer ordering it around.  
  
And the chances of that were slim, indeed.  
  
The monster danced a grim circle, the heat slowing down Ryo, but not tampering with his monster. "Enchanted armor is illegal for magicians within the arena, but it's not against the rules for my creature to be wearing it." The former scholar announced, spreading his hands wide one more time. "You would need flames hotter than Hell itself to even give my dragon a burn mark. Keep trying, you wannabe."  
  
And then, Ryo's hand came down, and the dragon pounced.  
  
The match was over, and Cheruk had to be dragged away on a stretcher. His beloved gauntlet had been crushed, making his entire hand unusable. It was the first blood for Ryo, but not an unexpected one. The crowd roared, and whispered, and gossiped, and told stories, and waited for the next magician to be crushed in front of their eyes.  
  


This was actually supposed to be the third (in a set of three) one-shots, but I haven't finished the second one. I can't seem to find it right now? I'm going to scour all of my computer's folders, but it's possible that I lost the data. One of my flash drives recently broke down completely, and all the files that were on there are gone ;w; I didn't keep a lot of my writing on there, but it's possible the second one-shot has been lost to the ether... I lost almost all of the fanart that I've been saving for years and years! Lesson learned: always back up your flash drives, folks.

This story about Ryo is sort of a finisher, something that shows their future. This is before Ryo completely derails himself, losing himself on the path of dark magic... maybe one day I'll tell the full story!

Thanks for all of the support, whether it's been reads, kudos, comments, or just hanging around :3 I'll probably be ending this one-shot project soon, but I have a few loose ends and stories that need to be finished first. (Sakura, I haven't forgotten about you!) There are 2 more Monsters whose words need to be shown to the world, and a couple of odds and ends. I think this book will finish with 22 chapters.


	17. Question for the Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sksksksk I'm having troubles with my motivation.... who wants a writing livestream???

Hey guys. I'm not writing as much as I used to... part of it has to do with personal issues that are taking away my energy. I promise I'll be more disciplined! I have lots of time, I just need to make myself sit down and do the work.

With that in mind, would you guys like to see me do a Twitch stream of my writing process? I can take (a few) requests start and work on the next one-shot for this book. I don't have a webcam(and my computer's built-in camera is really bad), so I would be doing it with audio only. It would also take a little time for me to get my streaming setup going, so the earliest I would be ready for a stream would be... January 15? And that's an early estimate. Could be longer.

If you really don't give a crap, I won't be offended. Feel free to say so! I've actually never streamed anything before, but I think it would help me stay accountable with my writing. I would also be answering questions and talking about my own writing experiences at the end, so it wouldn't all be just staring at my computer screen. :3 anyone who shows up can give feedback or input on what I'm writing, so it's YOUR chance to direct my content to your preferences.

If you are in favor of a stream, let me know what time would be best for you. Don't forget to say what time zone you're in!

I'll probably be using Twitch, unless someone can recommend a better platform for this kind of content. Thanks for the feedback, and I'll be working hard in the meantime to get this collection finished!


	18. Priestess Your Eyes Are Blue (3)

“My men and I need a place to stay for the night, noble priestess. We were ambushed by the forces of a warlord, Oda Nobunaga. He has some wild scheme to unite all of Japan, and make himself emperor of every island.” Young Gozaburo Seto spoke with the scorn of a man his age, but carried himself with the stately bearing of a king. There was a fire in his sky-blue eyes, even though his armor was dusty, and his ragtag men were bloody. “We stand against him, and have suffered no small harm because of it.”

Up close, the party was far less threatening then they had appeared on the road. There were wounded, and some who could barely sit upright in their saddles. Sakura looked on them all with an air of kindness, bowing warmly to the warlord seated on his horse. “Come in, warrior. We have no quarrel with a solider on either side, as long as he is brave and wields his sword well. Truth be told, little news of the outside reaches me here. I did not know the world was at war.”

“Is that so?” He smirked, moving to dismount. “How I envy you, priestess… ” Seto’s voice trailed off strangely as he swung his body off the horse, and his foot slipped from the stirrup. With a soft moan, he toppled to the ground, his brown hair flowing out in a half-circle around his head as he made no move to catch himself. There was a great cry from his men, and they quickly gathered around their unconscious leader, uncertain of how to help him.

“What ails your captain?” Sakura gasped. A moment later, she had processed her surprise, and knelt at the young lord’s side.

“He has not eaten in some time, in order to preserve our supplies.” One of the younger men replied, leaping forward to cradle Seto’s head in his arms. “He was also pierced with an arrow, in the chest. We suspected it was poisoned, but we have no antidotes, and he waved off any treatment of his own wounds. My nii-sama is so foolish… ”

“So you are his brother, then?” Sakura smiled softly, her long white hair falling over her shoulders as she began to deftly unfasten his armor. “I would ask you to carry him in, but I don’t think we have time. Send a man inside, ask one of the maidens to bring my supplies. She will know what I mean by that. We’re going to have to work quickly to save your brother, if he really is poisoned.”

The youth nodded, giving his soldier a quick signal. “Thank you, priestess. I am Gozaburo Moku, his only brother. If this still means anything, he, and I after him, are next in line for the governing of this province. Assuming we win this war, I can assure you that our state will repay you for your care in our hour of need.”

“We need no honor, nor money.” Sakura declined softly, stripping Seto of his shirt. She winced at the sight of the wound, horrified by the dried, blackish blood caking the deep tear left from the arrow. There were some soaked bandages full of blood covering the wound, but they were old and smelled terribly. Greenish pus oozed from the edges of the skin, and Sakura had to hold back a throat full of bile.

Seto moaned softly, his features wrinkling in pain even as he slept. “Should we bring him inside?” Moku worried, his hands shaking ever so slightly.

“There might not be time.” A group of shrine maidens hurried out now, one of them bearing a silk pouch. She took it straight to Sakura, passing it into her capable hands.

“Take the men inside.” The priestess instructed. “Moku, you stay with me, but let the rest of them have food and water, and rooms to stay in.”

The maidens complied, leading the group of battle-worn soldiers into the temple. Sakura stayed kneeling next to Seto, taking the herbs, salves, and fresh bandages that she needed from her pouch. Leaning close, she started probing at the wound, determining her next move forward.

“Do you think… he will survive?” Moku whispered, looking at the last of his men going inside.

“I hope so.” That was all Sakura offered him. She worked quietly, spreading cleaning salves across his body, and crushing together aromatic herbs. The scent of health seemed to rise up from the mixtures, contrasting with the leak of blood and the faint smell of decay slipping from Seto’s wound. Moku choked, looking away as Sakura pushed her fingers inside, searching for pieces of the arrow. It had pierced his side, just below his heart.

When she was done, she wrapped bandages around his chest, her expression grim. “Now we can hope, and keep watch.” She said softly. “He seems strong. Perhaps my god will visit him, and purify his body of this curse. If not, then I will use all the medicine I know how to, and do my best for your brother.”

“Thank you.” Moku bowed awkwardly with Seto’s head cradled on his lap. “Let us take him inside.”

It took almost a week for Seto to regain consciousness. He drifted in and out of sleep, mumbling strange words all the while. His face was deadly pale, and he was either covered in sweat or shivering with cold. Sakura had to work throughout the day and night to keep his fever down, or keep him warm. She trusted no one else with the warrior’s care. Moku was just as tireless as she was, running back and forth to fetch whatever she needed. Nothing seemed to help, no matter how much effort Sakura poured into his care. Desperate, she prayed to the white dragon every time she changed his bandages, or poured broth down his throat, or dripped a new poultice over the ragged wound. Every second of her life was a living, working prayer, devoted to Seto’s healing.

It was midnight, six days after the warriors had come under her care. Sakura left Moku to keep watch over Seto, and stumbled her way to the inner sanctum. Exhausted and desperate, she slumped onto the floor, bowing before the great painting of the white dragon. Created under Sakura’s own direction, the streaks of white paint and black ink mingled to create the image of the great dragon that had so often haunted her vision. Ever since Seto had arrived, the dragon had been noticeably absent, but Sakura had been too busy to notice much. Now, she craved its power, and the friendly intimacy they had come to share.

“Save him!” She pleaded, her voice cracking as she rested her head against the cold wood floor. “He’s a good man, a strong warrior. Let him live, after all I’ve done for him!”

Finally, the dragon came.

Its spirit rushed upon her, filling her up with white lightning and the scent of outdoors and incense. Sakura gasped, her body twitching. She felt stronger now, ready to go back out and fight for Seto’s life – but the dragon stopped her.

_He will be your undoing._

It was a feeling, more than words, but Sakura understood. “What do you mean?” She asked softly.

A feeling again. The feeling of being controlled, of being mastered. _See what I see._

There was a maiden, dressed in a simple tunic. Like Sakura, her hair was pale as the moon, flowing to her waist. She was cradled, cold and unmoving, in the arms of a tall man, his face full of sorrow. He was wearing blue, and gold, his skin deeply tanned. A single word passed his lips as he mourned for the woman he held. “Kisara… ”

The man seemed familiar. Sakura peered closely at him, trying to understand. As she gazed on his features, she finally understood. This man had Seto’s face, his same noble bearing. The kami knew it. And Sakura wondered what it meant.

_She was the first one chosen. Like you, and unlike you. She died for this man, as you will die, for your heart is too weak._

Cobalt eyes gazed into Sakura’s soul, shades of blue chasing each other in those majestic irises. Rough silver and white scraped her fingertips as she reached out a hand, tracing against those rugged scales. “Save him.” She said. “I am strong.”

A rumble rose around her, shaking the room. Startled, Sakura grabbed onto the dragon with both hands, then realized the rumble was coming from deep within the kami’s throat. Its power blazed through her human body, stronger than she had ever felt. There was anger there, and concern. There was no way she could get out alive, bound up in destiny’s red thread of blood.

As quickly as it had come, the dragon’s spirit left, leaving Sakura swaying in the middle of the room. She crumbled to the floor, gasping for breath as powerful tremors shook her body. She could barely remember how to breathe. As her senses slowly returned, the memory of Seto’s pale face and shaking body trickled into her mind. He was still lying sick in the infirmary.

_Even if he is my doom, I will still let that path continue forward._ The image of the other Seto and Kisara came to her mind again, but Sakura didn’t let that stop her. _I am a healer, and I cannot let him suffer._

Moku looked up as Sakura walked in to the infirmary, his tired eyes widening briefly. “I thought you went to bed.” He said softly.

Sakura shook her head, her movements sure and steady as she approached Seto. His pale eyes were hidden behind closed eyelids, his breathing shallow, irregular. She placed one hand on his chest, her fingers buzzing from the inside, like her veins were full of electricity. He was warm, his skin soft to her touch.

“Seto.” The name rose to her lips, like an instinct. Uncertain, she let the word hang there, her body as warm and tingling as if she were made of lightning. She would let Seto live, even if she ended up dead in his arms. It was no the destiny the dragon would have chosen for her, but she would not let anyone choose for her any longer.

The dragon-god didn’t know how to heal, but Sakura did, and the dragon could give her strength. She poured her life out for Seto, and the dragon filled her up with lightning instead. She was brave, and caring, with both Moku and her kami at her side every day. She would break Seto’s fever. She would send him back out to the field of war.

“You should get some rest.” It was midnight, or some time close to that. Moku was speaking to her. For a moment, Sakura acted as though she had not heard. She held a cool, dripping rag in one hand, passing it across Seto’s fevered brow. His face was flushed, his body heated and sweating.

“Go get some sleep. You’ve done enough for today.” Moku took the rag from her shaking fingers. She let it go, and moved away, so that he might take her place.

“It’s so hard to remember to sleep.” Sakura said softly, clasping her hands in her lap. “Day fades into night. So many seconds and hours feel the same.” Had her whole life always been like this, watching over Seto as he slept and sickened?

“Well, it’s time to rest now.” Moku said firmly. “Get out, right now.”

She smiled, but took him up on the command. After all, even the power of a god would only take her so far. On trembling legs, her body stiff, Sakura left the room. In the darkness beyond, she found her bedroom, collapsing on her tiny mat. It was only a few moments before she was asleep.

It was hours before she woke up. The sun dribbled through her window, illuminating the ink-drawing hanging on her wall. Of course, it was of the white dragon. One of the shrine maidens had left a fresh vase full of blue flowers on her windowsill, and their faint scent had spread through the room. It was refreshing, and Sakura felt like she knew how to breathe and live again. If Moku was keeping careful watch over his brother, than she should be able to leave him be for a few hours. She could bathe, and eat.

Comforted by this fact, Sakura took her time getting up, softly humming a tune from her childhood as she strolled to the infirmary. She could only hope that Seto had gotten better since she had left him, and not worse – although, his recovery could be far more dangerous for her than his death. That thought meant little to her.

“My own life is not for me. I am here to show people your strength, to heal their wounds, and teach.” Sakura nodded, whispering the words to herself. She had been chosen. She would never let that fact leave her mind.

Her blood ran cold as she opened the infirmary door to find the room empty. A world of panic rushed through her, images of Seto’s fevered body locked inside a wooden coffin haunting her mind. Gritting her teeth, Sakura pivoted quickly, squeezing her hands at her side as she tried to stay under control. Surely Seto had awakened? There was no way that all of her work, and all those nights spent at his side, had meant nothing?

The dragon was not here with her. She had to walk alone. Who would know about such things that were going on… ? Moku, Moku, of course. But where was he?

Someone would know. His soldiers, no doubt. The soldiers are… _outside. They’re practicing their exercises. I can cut through the garden and go out the side door to see them. Of course Moku would tell them if their leader had perished. Surely he couldn’t be gone so quickly, in those few hours I left his side._

Shuddering breaths. Deep breaths. The garden was tucked away in a small, inner courtyard, flanked by a door leading to the outside world. It was only a short, brisk walk from the infirmary to the courtyard, lined with flowers, benches, and herbs. There was one cherry tree, its buds just now beginning to show as winter turned into spring.

There was a tall man sitting on a bench. Sakura’s heart skipped, then stopped, and started again as she took in that sight. It was Seto, his hands cupped around a blue flower. His expression was pained, and his eyes had deep bags beneath them. And yet, he sat up by himself, his noble bearing evident in his posture. And wrapped around his bench, tail flicking, wings tucked in neatly, was the white dragon, pale contrast to the warrior’s dark robes. Of course, the sickened man couldn’t see the great kami, but Sakura wondered why it was curled so closely to him.

“Seto!” Once again, the name slipped from Sakura’s lips like a prayer, an instinct, a feeling. He turned to look at her, his sapphire eyes blazing. He was alive.

“Priestess.” He acknowledged her greeting, nodding his head. He seemed unperturbed by her use of his first name, something she wasn’t expecting.

“You should be resting, my lord.” She said quickly, regaining her composure. She was just excited to see her hard work pay off, to see her patient sitting conscious in front of her. “Let me check your temperature.”

His smirk was a pale shadow of his earlier confidence, and he leaned his head towards her. “I concur with your advice – as well I should. My brother has told me much about your efforts.”

Sakura rested a paper-white hand against his forehead, feeling the last remains of a fever-heat on his brow. “I did what I could for you, my Lord.” The dragon stirred beside them, its tail flopping lazily beside Seto’s feet. Of course, the mortal didn’t see him, but Sakura couldn’t help but follow the motion with her eyes. Seto saw her eyes move, and turned as well. However, there was nothing for him to see, and he frowned. Sakura’s hand was still lingering on his head, and she slowly pulled away from his touch as he moved. Her own hand felt strangely cold as it came away empty.

She continued softly. “My efforts still would have meant nothing without the interference of my god.” The white dragon didn’t have the power to heal, but it could strengthen those in her care. Only its divine strength could be keeping Seto sitting upright now.

“Your god must be powerful indeed. I was well past death’s doorway many times, and only your firm hand kept me from falling over the edge.” There was a strength in him now that hadn’t been there before, or perhaps wisdom. Sakura did not think that he would leave a poisoned wound long untreated again. “I am not a religious man. I pay what respect I must to the spirits, and they honor me by keeping out of the way of my spear. But here, there is something I cannot explain. Even now, it seems to ease the breath into my lungs.”

Sakura took a graceful seat on the bench beside him, beginning to run her fingers through her thick waves of silver hair. It hung almost to her feet, matted and tangled from her days without caring for herself. “It is the spirit of the white dragon kami. It has the greatest power in this land, guiding me unerringly to the destiny I must have.” This peaceful morning full of the scent of flowers and Seto’s heat were the things that would destroy her. She had to keep that in mind. And yet, it was so easy to lose herself in the flow of time, each second going on to the next in unpredictable pleasantry. “You will have its blessing when you go forth into battle. I pray it will give you victory, our highest achievement.”

Seto’s expression turned grim. “We shall only have to see. Unless the kami itself shows up to fight, I see little hope in the future.” He rolled his shoulder slowly, stretching his arm out in its full range of motion. “I have grown weak. My men have been without a leader. Mokuba has been taxed to the limit of his strength. And yet, if we hesitate, Nobunaga’s forces will sweep the last of my father’s army. Everything will be lost. We are but a handful of men, but we are the elite. With our skill to back up the army’s strength, we have a chance. I only hope we arrive in time.”

Sakura nodded, her heart thudding hard within her at the thought of battle. There would be bodies strewn about, chaos rumbling like the roar of the white dragon. Weapons clashing, steel scraping cold steel. Feats of valor, bloody wounds, severed limbs. It was the story that would become legend, passed down throughout history.

Ever since she had built her temple, Sakura had been content with staying inside its broad walls. The view and sounds of the sea were not far off, the gardens within were colorful, and her many maidens were like daughters to her. But confronted with the idea of crimson glory, wrapped up in Seto’s command, she found it hard to stay still. The world was too white and pure. She wanted to see the tumult of battle for herself, not just reflected in the dragon’s eyes.

Before she knew what she was doing, she had stood up, her hands reaching imploringly to Seto, settling on his strong arm. “Take me with you.”

He was surprised, but remained unwavering under her touch. “It’s not a pretty place to be.” He said slowly, unsure of what to say. “There will be no guarantee of you coming home, or having a meal.”

Sakura shook her head, her long hair billowing with the movement. “I do not need that. I am used to the hardships of the road, and I know of the fierceness of men. My dragon will protect me.” She could see it now, stirring against Kaiba’s touch. It wanted to be with him, and so did she. Even if it would lead to her death, even if the god would leave them both one day, she wanted to go. She needed to keep seeing Seto. She wanted to watch the way his hands used a sword, hear the screams of suffering he caused among the unjust. He was a punisher, and the dragon valued those who longed for blood.

“I will stand by your side.” She continued, her slender fingers digging in to tender skin. How fragile he seemed, with no armor. “And I will not complain. Let me be with you.”

And Seto bowed his head, and he thought for a great long while. She was a beautiful woman with many skills. She had brought him back from the brink of death. And Sakura was adamant to stay at his side, despite the danger. Still, he could not bear the thought of such a strong woman being bowed by the pressures and reek of war. She would not come home untouched, even if she suffered not a single wound.

“We are riding to a cause with very little hope.” He finally admitted. “We are more likely to die in a blaze of glory than conquer. Will you still come with me, despite the darkness that lies ahead?”

Sakura only nodded, her heart full. Words seemed too loud for this moment, but she finally found what she needed to say.

“If you ride into darkness, then I will be your white light.”

* * *

A story that continues to grow in my mind... I think I shall give this one more part. I intended to end it all in part 3, but Seto and Sakura need a little more time to be happy. I would like to think that the theme of tragedy and lost love runs through the stories of all the Blue-Eyes spirit bearers.

I understand that's it been a long time since I've came here. Thank you to everyone who left such glowing comments! I think that I might have never kept going without your support, and seeing the emails with the kudos and comments were what made me step out of my slump. I'm a very busy person and I'm doing many things, even if they never seem to be the right things. Perhaps I can get some focus and perspective as I continue to age? Or maybe I'll eventually accept myself for the way I waste my time.

Keep on keeping on, friends!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, my dears! If you enjoyed it, let me know by hitting that little heart. If you really, really want to make my day, leave a comment about how much you liked it. It doesn't have to be an exposition, but a sentence or two lets a writer know the audience is engaged and happy. :3
> 
> Happy dueling, dears.


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